Another Sister
by Michaela90
Summary: "Without another sister present with Charles' best interest at heart, I imagine that Louisa and Caroline would have been quite successful in destroying Charles' happiness. I am more glad than ever that we came to stay at Netherfield."
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes 3/16/2011**

_Hi everyone, reader's both new and old! Chapter 1 will be starting with some unusually long notes, because there are several things that need to be addressed._

_Firstly, I want to think everyone who read the original version of Another Sister. When I first published the story online, it was originally entitled An Elder Sister, and that was back in January of 2004. At that point in time, I was 13 years old, an avid fan-fiction reader and a huge Jane Austen dork._

_When I began writing this story, I was still a child, although I was trying very hard to become a woman. I had a lot to learn, but I wasn't willing to admit that to myself to anyone else. This effected my story in several ways. Besides the obvious spelling and grammar errors a middle-school age girl is likely to make, there were plenty of times I tried to write about adult situations with a child's understanding. Although in this day and age we are gaining knowledge of human sexuality through a variety of means at a much younger age, that does not mean a 13 year old girl is ready to write about it. Looking back, a lot of those passages embarrass and annoy me. They also are situations that are not fitting with Jane Austen's world, where the only talk of sexuality is so dry and full of metaphor that it is hard to grasp for most people that sex is what is being discussed._

_Also due to my age, I had a completely lack of understanding of politics or history for the Regency period. My entire knowledge base was off of Jane Austen, and since she ignores the political and focuses on the people, the amount you learn about the Regency era in her books is surprisingly limited. However, at 13, I chose to ignore what I didn't know in order to write my story. Now that I am older and more informed, as well as more patient, I can take the time to keep my story true to the time in which it takes place._

_I also went into this story with only the idea of how I wanted it to end, and in writing it, let the plot get away from me. I created characters that were superfluous, situations that were overly dramatic, to the point of belonging in a soap opera, and in my opinion, my characterizations of some of literature's most well beloved people were very two-dimensional._

_As I got older, I continued to sporadically work on this story, because I became fixated on the concept that I needed to finish it. Although my writing generally comes in bursts, and through the excitement and stress of high school, my writing became less regular, finishing Another Sister was always on the back of my mind._

_Well folks, I do have good news for you. Another Sister is completely finished._

_I also have news that may seem bad to some. I have completely rewritten the story._

_I did this for a number of reasons, but primarily to address the issues with the story that I mentioned above. I hope in this newest addition of Another Sister you will find a mature, well informed story, with fully fleshed characters, and a fully realized plot. I hope that you enjoy reading this new version of the story, as much, or even more, than you enjoyed the first tale. I hope that you remain patient with me as I post chapters up, because they will be slow in coming, as I am taking as meticulous an eye to the editing as I possibly can._

_For those of you who are new readers, I hope you enjoy this story, and if you don't, I hope you leave a review saying what you would like to see differently._

_The reviews for this story are what have kept me going more so than anything else. You took a little girl and made her feel like she had what it takes to become a real, full-fledged author. Even though in my day to day life I am pursuing other dreams, fan fiction was the first place that ever made me believe in myself._

_Thank you for taking the time to read this, and please, enjoy._

* * *

**CHAPTER 1:**

It was a gray October day when the Alcott family first entered Hertfordshire. The roads were in good condition, especially for autumn, but the coachmen observed the overcast skies with some apprehension. Once a steady rain started, they would be slowed down considerably, and although he was dressed as warmly as the season called for, he did not anticipate being soaked to the bone in a mid-autumn storm. He slapped the reigns and hastened their step; he wanted to reach Netherfield before the rain and preferably, before dark as well.

As the coach passed through the quiet village of Meryton, a murmur went up through the busy townspeople. Very rarely did they see a carriage pass through town that was so large, so fine, and so very clearly new. A murmur soon grew into wild speculation, as they saw the carriage pass through the town and head in the direction of Netherfield. The current owner there, Mr. Bingley, was newly come to the neighborhood, and very well liked by the people. His sisters who stayed with him, Mrs. Hurst, and Miss Bingley, were thought to be very fine, very elegant ladies, though they were less gracious than their brother. The friend that kept him company there, Mr. Darcy, was not so well received by Hertfordshire. He very rarely brought himself to speak to the people of Meryton, even the gentility that resided in the countryside, and the general consensus was that he was a proud, disagreeable man. Many wondered how he and Mr. Bingley had ever come to call themselves friends at all. Most of Hertfordshire hoped that this carriage carried _another _young man of ten-thousand a year, more inclined to dance with their daughters and shoot with their husbands.

Sadly, the hopes of the villagers came to naught. Inside the much talked of coach was a happy family of five, coming to call on their favorite brother and uncle. Eleanor Alcott, nee Bingley, was one of six Bingley children, and the first sister to have made her fortune through marriage. It was a well known fact that the Bingley money came through a very profitable line of trade, and with one son and five daughters to disperse the inheritance between, it was each of their jobs to marry very, very, well. Eleanor, Charles Bingley's twin, and very near identical to him in both disposition and good looks, had the very good fortune at the tender age of sixteen to snatch up an Admiral John Alcott, thirty-two.

While it had been the hope of the Bingley patriarch before his death that his daughters marry into landed gentry, and that Charles purchase and run his own estate, he could not help but bless the marriage between his second-youngest child and this well known rake. The Admiral's reputation and fortune preceded him to such an extent that he knew there was nothing to be done except bless the match, resistance to it would be futile indeed. The second son of an old, and very wealthy family, he had been situated in the royal navy, very young, with a good deal of money to back him up. John Alcott was an overly ambitious man by nature, and had used both the pull of his family, and his own hard work to advance through the ranks at an alarming rate. When he lost a leg to Napoleon, he had been decorated for his services by the Prince Regent himself, and formally retired from his duty. He found himself at thirty years old a decorated, war-hardened veteran, who had made more than his fair share of fortune, and was suddenly an all too eligible bachelor.

Admiral Alcott and Miss Eleanor Bingley were introduced by a mutual acquaintance while in Bath. Newly out in society, Eleanor was already becoming the season's favorite, both for her sweet voice and striking face, but also for her enormous dowry. In the beginning, the Admiral and Miss Bingley treated each other with mutual indifference. Eleanor was equally cordial and polite to any young man who paid her attention, showing none of them any preference whatsoever. Alcott, who was swiftly gaining his reputation as a notorious rake, threw her an impish smile whenever he had a mind to, a devilish twinkle lurking in his eye. He was known for his gruff manners and flirtatious, nearly scandalous, attentions to ladies, and Eleanor paid him no mind whatsoever.

It was not her beauty, or her dowry that made Alcott first pay serious attention to Eleanor Bingley, but rather her very sincere lack of interest in him that first aroused his notice. There were plenty of pretty young things glad to engage him, and it was common gossip from day to day that he was betrothed to a different Miss So and So. First set upon a course to win her affections merely to know that he was indeed, irresistible, even to the most cold and unfeeling of young ladies, he instead became besotted with his attempted conquest, and determined to have her as his wife. After six refused proposals, and two months of a whirlwind courtship, Admiral John Alcott and Miss Eleanor Bingley were finally married.

Eight years following the happy day, the couple in question had three young children, and a fourth on the way. The eldest, John Alcott junior, was seven, almost eight, and took after his namesake in more ways than one. He was an uncommonly bright child, and already had a tongue sharper than a guillotine and the same twinkle in his dark eyes that his father had wooed so many ladies with. Their second was a little girl named Anna, who possessed more of the Bingley looks than the Alcott. Her sweet golden curls and pink bowed lips promised to one day make her a great beauty, and the sweetness of her nature made anyone who met the child dote upon her in almost ravenous fashions. The youngest was a boy named Charles, and the name suited him all too well, for he seemed every day more and more like his much loved Uncle Charles. They differed only in one aspect of their temperament. The elder was known to depend very much on the guidance and opinions of the those he loved and trusted the most, while the younger was perhaps the most stubborn child ever to be born.

For several years the Alcott family was content going between Bath and London in rented homes. As the children and the Admiral grew older, he soon became fixated on the idea of finding a comfortable situation in the countryside full of good society, in which he could raise his children and spend time enjoying life with his young wife. When word came to them that Charles was settling in Hertfordshire for a time, he was determined to go hence, despite his wife being with-child once again. Charles Bingley was an agreeable and obliging fellow in Alcott's opinion, and now in the possession of such an estate, would have more than enough room to put up his family for some months. Eleanor missed her brother more than anyone else she had left behind, and it had been almost two years since they had actually met. He wrote a hasty letter to his brother in-law, inviting his family for a visit, and set off before receiving a reply.

Charles Bingley was not a man lacking in sense, but would not call himself a clever man, which was exactly how he would describe both his brother-in-law and his good friend Darcy. He chose to take the impertinent demand as a polite request and hastily scrolled a quick reply back to his sister's husband saying that he would be glad to see his sister and his dear niece and nephews as well as his brother-in-law any time convenient. The letter had been sent out only two days, when playing in the billiard room with Darcy, a carriage was heard on the stone drive, and the distance sound of whining horses filled the space.

"Are you expecting someone Charles?" Mr. Darcy asked without the slightest curiosity.

"I confess I am not. The only guests I shall receive anytime soon are Eleanor, John and the children but they should not arrive for some weeks at least." His friend replied, his brow furrowing as he lined up his shot on the table.

"The Alcotts are coming?" Darcy asked, his tone taking on a lighter quality. "I shall be glad to see some company with whom I can converse easily."

"It seems Bath grows tiresome for my sister. I sent my reply some three days ago, telling them I would be delighted to host my family here. I am always glad for more company, especially in the dreary months ahead!" Charles said merrily.

Darcy hesitated before making his comment, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Charles, you do realize that Eleanor and Caroline do not get along well at all, do you not? I believe the circumstances of Eleanor's marriage to the Admiral is something of a vexation for Caroline, and of course, Louisa follows wherever Caroline leads."

Mr. Bingley's complexion went somewhat ashen, but he turned toward Darcy with an impassioned cry, "Oh hang Caroline!" he exclaimed, "I have had nothing but a foul mood from her since I took Netherfield. If she does not want to be here, she can very well leave. It is my home, and I may host who I like. She is not my only sister, after all!"

His friend laughed, a rich, merry sound that filled the room. "Do not trouble yourself Charles," he said, clapping him on the back, "All will be well. Caroline will not make a fuss. Now let us into the drawing room and greet your visitors. Let us pray that it is not Mrs. Bennet come to claim your hand for her daughter."

The gentlemen stepped into the hall and made their way toward the foyer, Charles's face a bright red. However, the mystery of the caller was revealed before they had even entered the hall, due to the sound of Admiral John Alcott's greetings.

"Oh my dear Caroline!" he cried the sarcasm unhidden in his voice, "How have you been? Married to Darcy yet? No, I did not expect an engagement to that gentleman, without a dozen letters sent express telling us tales of your joy."

Caroline growled in fierce recoil but John paid her not the slightest heed as he continued on with his excessive and exuberant declarations, "In the name of the devil where is Darcy and Charles? I haven't talked to Darcy in a good six months at least! Oh Mrs. Hurst!" he exclaimed upon seeing Mrs. Hurst enter the room, "How does Mr. Hurst do? Still drinking more than a fish? Have you any children yet? I daresay Eleanor and I are going to quite overdue it, and exceed our income, but you would know nothing of that, would you?"

The whole of these past two speeches where said in such a quick succession that the parties being offended could scarcely make them out, yet after having been in such an intimate acquaintance with the admiral for eight years that they knew that anything he said would disregarding and were properly offended by his indecorous speeches.

Darcy and Mr. Bingley arrived in the foyer and the normal pleasantries were exchanged until a screech interrupted their reverie.

"John Benjamin Alcott! What in heaven's name do you think your doing? Come back here and help me!"

With this cry, the two gentlemen in the foyer quickly rushed out to the carriage just outside. The lady's husband hobbled after them, slowed by the peg-leg he wore and the cane he used to aid his balance.

Eleanor stood next to the coach, her pregnancy carefully concealed beneath many layers of fabric and stays. In her arms she carried a young boy with golden hair, who was nestled comfortably and sound asleep, despite her yelling. Her governess, a young woman by the name of O'Reilly, with quick, intelligent eyes, helped the elder two children out of the carriage, with the footman's assistance.

"My dear sister!" Charles exclaimed upon seeing her, "How do you do? Are you well? Come, I will take little Charles and bring him inside." He strode across the drive to where his sister stood, planted a brotherly kiss on her cheek and stole his nephew and namesake from his sister's arms.

Darcy followed quickly in his wake, giving the Admiral's wife a low and almost sardonic bow. Looking up at the woman he come to think of a sister and a very old friend he said, "Eleanor, how are you? It's been far too long."

Grasping her friend's hand and smiling warmly she replied, "It has Fitzwilliam, it truly has."

Darcy glanced at the governess, who held Anna Alcott in her arms. "Come now, you must let me hold my own god child." He approached Miss O'Reilly, and took the child from her with a very gentle grip. Turning towards Eleanor he continued, "I was going to go out and by them all presents tomorrow, for Charles did not tell me of you're coming until today, so I am afraid the presents will be late." He smiled softly, looking down at his god-child's golden curls.

Thunder suddenly cracked overhead, and the horses whined. They all glanced up, and Darcy's smile turned into a thin line. "Charles," he called, "We need to send word to the Colonel Foster that we will not be able to dine with the officers today, with your sister's unexpected arrival, there is much to be done."

"Indeed you are right," Charles replied, "I will send word with my footman directly!" He hastened his steps inside, his nephew sleeping contently in his arms.

Little John stood patiently by his mother's side, waiting to be told what to do next. When no answer seemed forthcoming he finally turned to her with the most withering glance a seven year old child could possibly give. "Mama," he said, his voice very sour. "Mama, it will rain soon."

Eleanor let out a small laugh and ruffled her son's black hair affectionately, "I daresay it will. Quick run inside, I will be right behind you, my darling."

Not wasting a moment, the child ran off, running up the many stairs that lead to Netherfield's entrance, ensuring he would be safely shielded from the gather storm clouds. A lady's shriek was heard from inside the foyer. The child must have given Caroline a fright as he ran past her.

Glancing across the drive, Eleanor's eyes met those of her husband's. She waited patiently for him to approach and offer his arm, refusing to give him any kind of concession since he was crippled, knowing well how such concessions mortified his pride. He lead her across the drive and up the stairs as quickly as he could, for fat raindrops began to fall, in quicker and quicker succession. Eleanor refused to race inside, but instead held onto her husband's arm tighter as he escorted her to safety. Charles reappeared in the foyer, his arms now empty, and attempted to help his brother-in-law and sister in.

She almost chuckled at Caroline's expression when she entered the foyer with her husband. Releasing her hold on John's arm, she gave each of her sisters the obligatory kiss and how-do-you-do. She could almost hear John's silent laughter in her head as her sisters sniffed indignantly.

"Eleanor," Caroline said, taking her sister's arm and pulling her from her husband, her voice cordial for the moment, "I do say this is the most dreadful timing that you could have possibly had. I have invited a local girl, Jane Bennet, to dine with Louisa and me, as the gentlemen are to dine with the officers. I do not mind breaking our kind condescension, but really, the poor girl is probably on her way hence."

Eleanor smiled sweetly at her sister, "Oh Caroline, how very thoughtful of you to break your engagement for my first night here. I do say, it will not be necessary though. I am most tired after my journey, as is Admiral Alcott. We will rest during your visit and take a light supper in our rooms, later in the evening. I know how very unexpected our arrival was today, despite our having written weeks ago. There is no need to break an engagement on our part. In fact, the sooner we meet the Hertfordshire society, the better!"

"Very well," Caroline replied stiffly, "It is rather late at this point, to call the engagement off…" Caroline trailed off, heading toward the kitchen to inform the cook of the extra meals that would be needed for the evening. A dark scowl spread across her lips as she quit the room.

Charles smiled at his twin and her husband. "Shall I show you to your rooms?" He said congenially, making his way up the grand staircase to the first floor.

Once his back was turned, John Alcott caught Eleanor's eye and grinned wickedly. She smiled back unabashedly.

"So," she thought, as she headed up the stairs, holding her husband's arm once more, "I was not the only one to notice Charles blush at the mention of the name Jane Bennet!"

**o0o0o0o**

After seeing that the children were taken care of and their luggage brought in, it occurred to John Alcott that he was getting too old for traveling. He was only forty, to be sure, but a hard life at sea had aged him well beyond his years. His feet ached, his stomach was unsettled, his neck ached, his back ached, and his knee, where the peg met his skin, felt as if it were on fire. He lay on the bed given to him and stared up at the ceiling for a long while. Although he knew that the proper thing to do was to give a husband and wife separate bedrooms, he could not help but wish that the Bingleys would hang propriety and shack him up with Eleanor. After eight years and three, (soon to be four) children, John was not used to sleeping alone and most certainly not inclined to. He was supposed to be asleep now, so that later in the evening when the company came he could be full of energy and show himself to best advantage, but since his marriage, he had not been able to sleep without Eleanor lying with her head on his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around his lady's waist.

Both sides of the bed seemed empty and very cold; the feeling of loneliness was only amplified by the gray light that cast a bleary gloom throughout the unfamiliar room. Throwing his arms over his face to block the light, he tried to make himself comfortable on the alien bed to little avail. Tossing and turning he wished Eleanor was there now, so that she could take off his wooden leg, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he slowly caressed her soft hair or the small of her back. He had not asked his wife to take the peg off for him as he normally did, knowing her to be exhausted from the journey, and wanting her to get as much rest as possible in her state. He knew that he would get no rest with it on.

His assumptions were far from correct. Eleanor was laying listlessly, staring out the window at the rainy October day. She listened to the rhythmic sound of the raindrops pattering against the glass, and knew that sleep was not going to reach her soon. Aching, lonely, and tired, she stood and paced the small guestroom, silently counting the minutes that drifted by. She could hear her husband tossing and turning in the neighboring room, but she knew not whether he slept and did not wish to disturb him if he did.

Though the servants had been diligent in unpacking all the necessary articles, the volumes she had brought with her remained in her trunks. Opening her trunk and searching for a few moments, she finally found a collection of Shakespeare's plays and searched for her favorite poem. She read for several minutes, but a small headache that had been forming, was slowly becoming a larger one. She sat down and on the only armchair in the room, gently patting her well-disguised midsection, and opened the volume to an anonymous page, and by chance found one of her favorite poems from the Tempest.

She softly read aloud, "Full fathom five thy father lies."

She heard a shuffling in the neighboring room, and paused for a moment. The click of the wooden leg onto the floor was unmistakable, John was indeed awake. On the other side of the wall she heard her husband gently say, "Of his bones are coral made."

She stood, approaching the wall that separated them, "Did I wake you my love?" she asked, smiling against the wallpaper.

"You did not; I can not seem to sleep without you." He replied, his voice in a characteristic drawl.

She smirked, her blue eyes laughing, "We have been separated less than half the hour. You miss me already?"

In the adjacent room the Admiral laughed aloud, and stepped closer to the barrier between himself and the object of his affections. "I miss you very much indeed madam. Come to me now and I shall take care to prove it."

With the same winsome giggle she had at sixteen, Eleanor replied, "Why I am an old married woman, you can not tempt me with your charms. I need you not."

There was a pause, and when her husband replied, his voice dropped an octave into a rich, velvety, caress of a sound. "Well, my darling," He almost purred, "I need you now, and I am a very selfish and impatient creature, so I will come to you."

Eleanor's breath caught short as she heard the unmistakable clunk of wooden leg meeting wooden floor. At sixteen, she had been an unknowing child, but the Admiral had opened doors for her she had never known existed. The passion of their marriage was something that too few people had, and as the door to her bedroom opened slowly revealing her handsome husband, his thick dark hair sprinkled with streaks of silver, his rich brown eyes twinkling with both humor and desire, she could not help but to thank God for her good fortune.

Despite her declaration that she needed him not, she crossed the expanse of the room and met her husband halfway. He wrapped his arms around her, and when their lips met, she knew the same spark of delight she had felt on her wedding night. As she sighed happily against his lips, she heard the door click behind him. They were alone at last.

**o0o0o0o**

Mr. Darcy was having a decidedly better day than he had anticipated. The arrival of his two friends was very welcome, indeed. The society in Hertfordshire made him uneasy. Anywhere he and Bingley went, some eager Mama appraised them hungrily. He was used to this sort of behavior when in town, but there it seemed different. The mothers lacked the air of desperation that these same mothers possessed, they themselves had more wealth, and there was also many targets to chose from. To them Darcy was indeed a fine catch, but nothing to the son of an Earl or a Duke. It was easier to escape them there as well. London was full of gentleman's clubs of all sorts where he could retreat from the game they called courtship.

The arrival of the Alcotts was also welcome for a reason Darcy was embarrassed to admit, even to himself. With five guests to accommodate unexpectedly, and five more dinners to be prepared, Caroline Bingley was very busy that day, keeping house for her brother. The attentions she paid Darcy were growing more and more alarming every day. When they had been in Town together, they crossed paths much less frequently. Caroline had rounds upon rounds of social calls to make, and any amount of gaieties to amuse her. Similarly, Darcy himself had business to conduct, calls to make, and clubs he could attend to spend less time cooped up at home. In Hertfordshire, they were almost always together, and suddenly, he felt decidedly _marked_.

In town he had found her flirtatious nature toward him at times amusing, at others flattering, and occasionally he felt rather sorry for her. Excluding Charles, Caroline was the only Bingley yet unmarried. Her elder sisters, Beatrice and Louisa, had been married longer than Darcy cared to recollect. While it was an uncharitable thought, he could not bring himself to imagine any woman being envious of Louisa Hurst. Eleanor, three years Caroline's junior had been a bride for eight long years and had given birth to three children. Julia, the youngest Bingley in the family, was married just the previous spring. Although wealthy and reasonably attractive, Caroline had gotten desperate. She was six-and-twenty this summer, and felt her window on marriage prospects closing. It was a sad state for her to be sure, but Darcy could not stand the sensation that he was the mouse, and she was the hungry cat.

In Netherfield, Darcy could scarcely find a moment alone. Even his most intimate moments were interrupted by Miss Bingley. When his thoughts meditated toward the pleasantness with which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty women can bestow, he suddenly heard her calling his name, or felt her standing behind him, ready to whisper some asinine comment in his ear. When he began to frequent one room more than another, he suddenly found that she was always there as well, a saucy smile on her lips. If he chose a volume from the library to read on a quiet evening, she chose its sequel. When there was no sequel to be had, he found her reading, or pretending to read, at any rate, a volume by the same author. It was maddening.

As the rain began to pour in earnest, Darcy could not help but wish that they were, in fact, still set to dine with the soldiers. A respite from Caroline's attentions had been divine, but once she had squared everything away, there would be no escaping her notice for the rest of the evening. He thought briefly of going for a ride, of the exhilarating rush he would get racing across the country side during such a storm, but knew that it would be fool's errand indeed. He could imagine how idle mouths would flap to see such a spectacle, and instead attempted contend himself with a book until it was time to dress for dinner.

After several minutes, Darcy scowled darkly, looking out at the storm, the volume not engaging him as he had hoped. "No," he thought to himself, "I can not retreat from battle tonight. I must do what I can to win this war, before I see Caroline Bingley as the mistress of Pemberly."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2:**

After an invigorating afternoon, Admiral and Mrs. Alcott were in much better spirits, and well prepared to visit with the Hertfordshire society. After an amusing and engaging discourse on the Bennet family with her brother, it was decided by Eleanor that _another _Miss Bennet should be present for supper that evening. Since the scale and nature of the invitation had changed, as the gentlemen were no longer to dine with officers, it seemed improper to have Miss Bennet call alone, while the gentlemen were in attendance. The same footman who had been dispatched with a note to Colonel Foster was sent also to Longbourne with all due haste.

The footman's arrival was very lucky indeed, for Miss Bennet had been preparing to head out on horseback into the rain, as her mother insisted, and if he had been delayed but a minute or two, would have well been on her way. Mrs. Bennet was very put out at the idea of Jane not having to spend the night at that grand estate, but knowing the compliment that was being paid to her daughter in having her dine with a family party the first night of their arrival, could not bring herself to be too vexed. Mr. Bingley would be at dinner after all, and seeing him had been her object to begin with.

It was determined by Mr. Bennet that Elizabeth should be the sister to attend Netherfield with her Jane, much to Mrs. Bennet's consternation. Her thought was to send Mary with Jane, to put the eldest sister's beauty into best light. Jane was always the most stunning woman in the room, but next to Mary, who tried her hardest to be as plain as possible, she would look positively radiant. Edward Bennet would hear none of it, and to Netherfield Lizzy and Jane went, dry and warm.

The members of the Netherfield party were all dressed and ready for dinner an hour before the Miss Bennets were due to arrive. Charles claimed to be disappointed to miss his chance at socializing with the militia, but inwardly could not have been more delighted at the turn of events. Jane Bennet was always on his mind, and finally, he would have the chance to know her better.

The large party sat in the drawing room, patiently waiting for their evening entertainment. The children, well rested after their journey, were permitted to remain with the adults for that time, but would take their supper in the makeshift nursery before being sent to bed.

Anna Alcott, her curls bouncing, sat a the pianoforte next to her elder brother, banging at the keys with joyful abandon. Little John whined that his sister did not know how to play, and exclaimed that he wanted to show his uncle the song he had learned, but he was told to wait his turn and let Anna enjoy her music. While both Charles and Darcy were generous with the children, and ignored the noise, Caroline and Louisa sat in the furthest seat from the instrument, talking in whispers and sending exasperated glances toward their sister and niece every few moments.

Time spent in anticipation always passes slowly, and so the hour before the Bennets were due seemed to take a lifetime. Bingley was anxious and excited, eager to see Miss Bennet again after the dances they had shared; Darcy was exasperated and wanted nothing more than to retire for the evening, Mr. Hurst was exhausted after a long day spent indoors, drinking port; Mrs. Hurst was utterly famished, Caroline was scheming of ways to best catch Darcy's notice; Admiral Alcott was eager to return to the bedchamber with his wife, and Mrs. Alcott was in a flutter to see the girl who had captured her brother's interest.

At length Longbourne's carriage was heard on the drive. The Netherfield party straightened their backs, and made themselves appear to be animated as was the general rule. Mrs. Alcott stood, and rang the bell for her governess to come and collect the children. They would be introduced to the Bennet sisters and then sent upstairs. Darcy stood as well, but instead strode toward the window, glancing out at the rainy night.

A man-servant dressed in very fine livery opened the door to the drawing room and announced the guests a few moments later. "Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet for you Miss Bingley."

"Thank you Jones, send them in directly." Miss Bingley replied leisurely, falling into the role of elegant hostess with aplomb.

With a brief bow he was gone, but soon afterward returned with two young women following in his stead. The proper bows and curtsies were exchanged by all and an introduction was made.

"Miss Bennet," said Charles, "Miss Elizabeth, allow me to present my sister Mrs. Eleanor Alcott and her husband, Admiral John Alcott. Eleanor, John this is Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"How do you do?" asked Eleanor, smiling politely, "I have been in the neighborhood only a few short hours and already I have heard so much about you both."

Jane Bennet smiled widely, her blue eyes large and round. She ran her hands nervously along the seams of her gown, wondering if it was possible that there was yet another sister of Mr. Bingley who's approval she would need. "I am so pleased to meet you," she said quietly, more glad than ever that Lizzy had been asked to dine as well.

"It is indeed a pleasure to meet you both, Mrs. Alcott, Admiral. We had not heard that Netherfield was to expect anymore visitors, was your arrival quite a surprise?" Lizzy said with a laugh, sensing Jane's discomfort.

"We wrote to Charles nearly a fortnight ago," said the Admiral, matching her teasing tone, "but he is such an indolent correspondent that we never truly wait for him to write back, do we my love?" He laughed at his own joke, the silver streaks in his hair sparkling in the candlelight.

Lizzy turned toward Mr. Bingley, smiling good naturedly at the flush that spread across his cheeks. "Is this so, Mr. Bingley? Would you call your correspondence indolent? I confess my own father is a man who does not care for post."

Bingley laughed, despite his slight embarrassment, owning that he was not the most diligent writer to be found, and that there was no falsehood at on hand on the part of his brother-in-law. Eleanor spoke up then, gently teasing her husband.

"My John is of such a rash manner, and impatient disposition that he seldom waits for a reply from anyone, save perhaps the Prince himself before rushing along to go by what is convenient for him." She chuckled.

He grinned sheepishly, "That's true enough my dear, that's true enough. Where'd did you put those little ones?" he added quickly, scanning the room for signs of his three children.

"They are all in the room adjacent, misbehaving as much as they possibly can while not being _too_ tiresome, just like you taught them Admiral." Darcy stiffly joked from his place by the window.

Elizabeth's brow slowly arched upward at Darcy's seeming snobbery. "Even if he has more fortune than most, he has no rights to criticize how another man raises his children." She thought, feeling more vexed than she could understand.

Just then, Miss O'Reilly entered the room, curtsying to the party. In her wake were three very delightful children, dressed smartly and minding their manners. "Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, please allow me to introduce my children to you." Eleanor said, smiling with the warmth that only a mother can feel when near her babies, "This is John, my eldest, my daughter Anna, and this is little Charles"

Jane, who had been distressed and withdrawn around so large a company of those she did not know well, suddenly forgot why she had been nervous. Children were her greatest delight, and her face beamed in the most heart-warming, happy smile at the sight of them. Both sister's curtseyed politely, and listened patiently for the children to make their how-do-you-do's. After greeting the guests, each child turned to their mother and then their father, to give them a good night kiss.

Lizzy met her sister's eye, knowing full well what each was thinking, "At least there is one relation to Mr. Bingley with whom we can converse easily! What a pleasure!" Lizzy knew that there would be much discussion of the Alcotts when they returned home later that evening.

As the children left, following their governess in a perfect line, Lizzy glanced toward Mr. Darcy, and was surprised to see how tenderly he smiled at the children. From what she knew of the man thus far, she had not expected him to be the sort of man who took to children with ease. What a further surprise to her then, when the children were just outside the drawing room, Darcy called out, "Little Anna, I think you have forgotten something very important!"

All the Netherfield Party smiled softly, even Caroline. In the corridor, Anna giggled loudly. A moment later she raced back into the room, all her good manners forgotten. Curls flying, she sped toward her god-father and caught his legs in an enormous hug.

"Goodnight Mr. Dawcy." She said sweetly, pulling herself away from his legs. He Patted her blonde hair, and giggling, Anna ran out the room again.

Darcy grinned at the little girl, lovely dimples framing each corner of his smile. Elizabeth had never seen him smile until that moment, and her heart skipped a beat. For the briefest moment, her first impression of Fitzwilliam Darcy was completely forgotten, and she could not help but smile softly at him, herself.

**o0o0o0o**

The dinner was exquisite, and Caroline, as the lady of the house, was complimented artlessly. That she had successfully arranged a five course meal for so large a party on so a short notice, that had been so expertly prepared by the cook was to be celebrated. The Bennet sisters ate very well, but rarely so fine, and enjoyed the novelty of the Bingley house immensely. The seating arrangement seemed to be satisfactory to all involved. Caroline put Eleanor next to Miss Eliza, and across from the Admiral, which meant that the troublesome of the party were far from herself. Charles headed the table, as was his place, and she sat across from him. Jane Bennet, Caroline placed on her right hand side, and Louisa across from Jane, on her left, so that they could learn all from her tonight what they could. Mr. Hurst sat next to Jane, and then Mr. Darcy sat next to him. She would have liked to make Darcy nearer to her, and not have him sitting directly across from Elizabeth Bennet and next to the Admiral, but could conceive of no way to make that happening without losing Jane in the seat next to her, and learning the Bennet's relations had been the purpose of the invitation to begin with.

Similarly, Elizabeth longed to have Mr. Darcy as far away from her as Miss Bingley did. Sitting him closer to Miss Bingley would have suited her own, and Miss Bingley's purposes greatly. Though Elizabeth found Admiral and Mrs. Alcott to be delightful, intelligent, charming people, Darcy's severity made her anxious to be rid of him. Throughout the course of the meal, Darcy spoke scarcely a word, though his eyes looked to little else but her face. Considering that the man had once claimed, that she was "tolerable, but not handsome enough" to tempt him, her mind was whirling with reasons as to why Mr. Darcy would not stop looking at her. Had she done something to offend him? Was he judging her looks even as she ate her supper? It was abominable manners on his part, at the very least.

Eleanor, seated next to her new friend, noticed Darcy's scrutiny as well. She attempted to engage Miss Elizabeth in conversation, hoping both to distract her acquaintance from noticing his gaze, and also in an effort to draw him into the conversation as well. She was utterly perplexed by her old friend's strange behavior.

"Miss Elizabeth I hear that we have more in common all the time! I understand that your sister Jane is not your only sibling. Do I understand correctly that you are one of five?" Eleanor asked, trying to keep the tone light, observing Darcy all the while.

"I am one of five sisters ma'm, you have been informed correctly." Elizabeth answered, her voice tinkling with a withheld laugh, "Am I to understand that there is yet another Bingley sister with whom we have not made an acquaintance?"

"Indeed you are right! We Bingleys are a family of six. Mr. Bingley is in fact, the only boy. My eldest sister Beatrice lives on the continent, she married an Austrian some many years ago. Then comes Mrs. Hurst, Caroline, myself and Mr. Bingley, then the youngest, Julia, who was married just last spring." Eleanor said with a laugh, "Has it been much trouble for you, Miss Elizabeth, in looking after your younger sisters? Being the youngest for many years, I never had any share in that sisterly duty."

Elizabeth glanced down the table toward Miss Bingley, thinking of what remarks she would have to make on the matter of the younger Bennet sisters. She saw that she was not listening, but in engaged in her own discourse. Lizzy replied, "Well, I do admit they can be troublesome at times. The two youngest, Catherine and Lydia, are very young indeed, and quite enamored with the newly instated militia here in Hertfordshire."

At that remark, John Alcott laughed heartily, glancing at his wife with dark eyes sparkling. With her husband's look, Eleanor's cheeks were tinted pink and Darcy had a small slit of a smile on his face. Eleanor noted the expression with dissatisfaction, think of how, if just in the company of herself and the Admiral, Darcy would have been grinning ear to ear at the beginning of the familiar tale. Did these lovely young women make her friend nervous?

"I dare say," The Admiral said, "That Mrs. Alcott can quite sympathize on that account! Eleanor and I had a two month courtship before we were wed; most of her rather posh friends were against the match...I am slightly old for her." He gave a slight wink to her wife, "But the amount of suitors she went through most hold a record in Bath. It seemed that she would allow any man, whether he is titled, untitled, poor, rich, young fair and gay, or old bald and drab to pay court to her. She was not a flirt, heavens no! She just showed complete equal impartiality to every man that came to call. It was quite the scandal when two very young officers from the army dueled over who she preferred the most. By God, the talk that went around! And of course she would tell you she had done nothing wrong. She spoke to each gentleman the same, with equally as sweet words and equally shy smiles. She flirted with both of them the same amount, it mattered not, who was whom. think the only reason that she chose me was because I wasn't sick with love for her."

Everyone listing laughed, although for Darcy it was a tight stiff one. He truly did look as though he wasn't enjoying himself, which seemed very strange to Mrs. Alcott. She had known Fitzwilliam a long while, and if anyone enjoyed a laugh, it was him. What in Heaven's name was wrong with the man? Eleanor laughed along with the group, her calculating eye observing Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth the entire time. "Oh Heavens, John!" She exclaimed, "You were the worst one of all. I only married you because I could not bring myself to reject a man for the seventh time."

Miss Elizabeth laughed, her hazel eyes dancing. Darcy stared at her, his face impassive. He looked as if he was made of stone. Eleanor inwardly rolled her eyes at his odd behavior, and hoped that she or her husband could talk some sense into the man. She had never seen such behavior in all her life!

As was the custom, the ladies and the gentlemen separated following the dinner. Escaping from the small talk in the study, Mr. Hurst headed directly to his port, which he had felt he'd been neglecting in his absence. Ignoring the etiquette that called for the host to pour for his guests, the gentleman served himself a healthy portion of the drink, and took to his regular spot on the sedan.

Blushing awkwardly at the impudence of one brother-in-law, Charles served his friends with an apologetic shrug. After indulging in a quiet minute or two, Charles turned to the Admiral and inquired as to the conditions of the road on the journey. John, not one for propriety, replied, "Oh damn the roads. We arrived in good health, what more can be said of them? I know my duty to my wife right now, brother. What are you intentions towards this Miss Bennet? Are you courting her? Eleanor will never forgive me if I do not discover the entirety in few minutes' conversation."

Darcy laughed as the pink of Charles' complexion sunk into crimson. Now away from the sight of Elizabeth Bennet's bewitching eyes, and amongst the company of good friends, he suddenly felt himself again. "Oh yes indeed, Charles!" He cried jovially, "Do tell the Admiral all about your Miss Bennet!"

"I will not hear a word against her, Darcy." Charles said firmly, his eyes flashing briefly. "No man can deny that she is an angel! We are not so well acquainted yet, John, so there is nothing much to be said, though I do find her to be the most handsome woman I have ever seen!"

The Admiral's dark eyes took on their familiar sparkle, "She is a fair bit of sport," he said, taking a long sip of his drink, "quite a fair bit." He dropped his voice so that it took on a slightly husky note.

Darcy's eyebrows rose, but he did not question the wizened sea-dweller. Though they themselves were not as close as Darcy and Bingley were, they had known each other all of their lives, as they were distant relatives, and Fitzwilliam had learnt to let nothing surprise him with this particular friend. Charles, however, could not help the flash of rage that boiled within him to hear Miss Bennet spoken of thusly.

"I will not have any young lady in my acquaintance spoken of in such a degrading fashion, sir!" He said, turning toward his brother with white knuckles.

There was a long, tense pause amongst the group. The three gentlemen locked eyes, but none spoke.

After a moment, Charles began to speak, in a low angry, hiss. "I -" Just as suddenly, he was cut off, as Mr. Hurst stood and crossed between the three men, to refill his glass. When all three turned and watched him take a deep gulp of the rich liquid, he gave them a baffled glance, "Yes, yes." He said, after swallowing and squaring his shoulders. "I agree, damn tedious waste of an evening!" Shaking his head in agreement with his own assertion, Hurst headed towards the door. "Are we going to have some cards, or no?" He asked the group, not really looking for an answer as he continued back to the drawing room.

The gentlemen watched him go silently, each somewhat puzzled at the turn of events. Glancing between his host and his hosts' companion, John released a rich, hearty laugh. Wooden leg thumping on the floor, he followed in the first gentlemen's wake, pausing briefly in the doorway to address his friends. "I would rather it be, 'or no' myself. That man is a damn fine hand at cards." He gave the two men a stiff bow, his lips curled into a sardonic grin.

Charles looked toward his friend, and Darcy merely shrugged. "Shall we rejoin the ladies?" He asked, smiling slightly.

"Er yes, rather, I think." His friend replied.

The two gentlemen followed in the path laid by Mr. Hurst before them, and rejoined the ladies in the drawing room.

The women of the company, who far outnumbered the men, were in a discussion of accomplishments. Caroline and Louisa were inquiring as to the talents of the Bennet sisters, and Caroline, especially, was harking on what she believed necessary requirements in an accomplished woman.

"…and to all this there must be something more," she was saying, as her brother and her prey reentered the room, "something of elegance in her air, and manner of speaking, her poise and her address. That is indeed what marks a young lady as truly accomplished."

Jane agreed and offered her own gentle remarks about the necessary goodness of an accomplished woman, and the way in which she must treat others, especially the poor and needy. Elizabeth merely laughed, knowing full well that the woman Caroline Bingley described was made in her own image.

Though only hearing a snippet of the conversation, Darcy too saw that Caroline was describing herself. Unable to resist an opportunity to set his erstwhile suitor down, despite it being ungenerous of him, he said, "I do not mean to interrupt, but I feel that I must add my own thoughts. In order for a lady to be truly accomplished, she must indeed have the qualities you mentioned. But most importantly is something more substantial."

Caroline's cat-like eyes crackled with triumph at having Mr. Darcy address her of his own accord. All listening turned their eyes toward him and waited for a reply. "By the improvement of her mind, through extensive reading." He said, after allowing for a somewhat dramatic pause.

Miss Bingley seemed confused by his reply, but determined to put it aside and bask in her glory for the evening. Eleanor, who sat privy to the conversation, but so far had contributed nothing, kept her thoughts to herself. Her sister opened her mouth as if to speak once more, but Miss Eliza Bennet inadvertently ruined her witty repartee with the gentlemen by saying, "I am not surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women, Miss Bingley," she said, her tone teasing, "I now wonder at you knowing any."

With her words, Darcy felt himself tense. He had told himself upon first seeing this young woman at a country dance that she was quite ill-favored indeed, but every time he had seen her since and heard her speak, he began to feel himself more and more drawn towards her. With a sharp click of the heel, he turned from them and stood by the window that was swiftly becoming his favorite haunt.

Eleanor, the silent onlooker, saw the way that Elizabeth Bennet's words affected her friend. She was unsure of what his reaction meant, but it was becoming quite curious. She also noticed that her sister Caroline also saw Miss Bennet's affect on the gentleman, and was growing more and more irritated by it by the second. Elizabeth herself seemed completely ignorant of it.

The conversation carried on from one topic to the next. Mr. Hurst had ensconced himself in a comfortable seat near the fire, and drifted in and out of consciousness, his empty glass by his side. Mrs. Hurst, Eleanor, and Elizabeth, made an attempt at small talk, which included Caroline at times, though she largely ignored them, in favor of addressing Mr. Darcy, only to receive one word answers in reply. Charles had sat himself next to the Miss Jane Bennet, and was intent on engaging her in a lengthy conversation.

When the topic changed to music, Elizabeth was called upon to play and sing for the company. She laughed saying, "I most sincerely decline I have not played in many weeks, and I am sure that if I play now I shall play very ill."

"Miss Elizabeth!" John cried, his voice struck with mock-horror, "No one is asking you to play well, we are simply asking you to play. So if you play ill, who is to complain, as playing well was not something they asked for?" He grinned impishly, and Lizzy laughed aloud. The other ladies laughed politely as well and the gentlemen smiled and shook their heads.

From his window post, Darcy said with his normal severity, "What is all this nonsense about going to sea, Admiral Alcott? With a wit like yours one should expect you to be a barrister."

Those who knew and understood him, smiled and laughed lightly at the gentleman's banter. Eleanor, who's eyes did not stray far from Miss Elizabeth, noted that she looked affronted by the speech, despite it having been a joke.

Laughing John replied, "Truly Darcy being decorated is not so bad a thing, I know that your cousin the good Colonel thinks no ill of it at all. True though, if I had put my wits to better use instead of my legs, I would be short half my mind instead of half my leg!"

Darcy lifted a brow, and gave his opponent a nod, "Touché, Admiral, I grant you that at least."

"That is not the punch line though, my friend!" The Admiral exclaimed, to the amusement of the company, "Think of this. You are younger than myself, you are wealthier, and perhaps better looking, with the use of all of your limbs. But I have the handsomest wife a man could ever wish for, and you, none at all!"

Eleanor blushed at the compliment from her husband, and admonished him for his impropriety all at once. Caroline and Louisa retreated from the company into their whispered secrets, to note what a spectacle their tasteless brother-in-law made of himself. Darcy went somewhat pale, and seemed at a loss for words. Elizabeth had felt flustered since the dialogue had began, and finally said, "Come Admiral Alcott, Mr. Darcy no more. I shall play, but I shall not sing, I have not the voice for it."

Alcott laughed, his smile filling his weather-beaten face with warmth. "That is quite an excellent idea Miss Elizabeth; add a musical backdrop to our debate."

Eleanor glanced at her husband with disapproval, and encouraged Miss Bennet to play for them. Resigned, Elizabeth crossed the room, sat at the piano, and began to play. Eleanor crossed the room with her to turn the pages. The party went back to their conversations, filling the room with the pleasant sound of healthy tête-à-tête and lovely music. Mrs. Alcott spoke a little to the performer, but was so engaged in watching her friend watch Miss Elizabeth play that she could scarcely make polite conversation with the young lady. Though his expression remained predominately impassive, Eleanor had never seen Fitzwilliam take such an interest in a woman in all of their acquaintance, and she was intrigued by the behavior.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: **_I've been delighted to see both new readers and old enjoying the story! Please, keep the reviews coming. Also, if you see grammatical errors, please, please, PLEASE, point them out to me. I have been working long and hard on this story to get it right, but I'm only one person with two eyes._

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**CHAPTER 3:**

After a rather pleasant evening of good society, the Bennet sisters took their leave. The ladies bid one-another farewell in the drawing room, and the gentlemen escorted the ladies down to the awaiting coach, as was excepted. Bingley lead the way, Miss Bennet's soft hand secured around his arm, and he took leave to press her hand on his left arm with his right, as they headed toward the night. Mr. Darcy, always one for propriety, stood to see them out as well. Glancing toward Hurst and realizing that the man was fully asleep, Darcy realized he would have to escort Elizabeth out on his arm, or risk his very reputation as a gentlemen. Elizabeth seemed to realize this as well, and squared her shoulders, pulling herself up to her full height.

Sitting next to her husband, Eleanor gently nudged John in the direction of where Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet had just stood. Eyebrows were raised in the most subtle of fashions, eight years of marriage making it so that only the two of them understood the meaning behind each other's expressions. The Admiral had also noticed how fixated of the dark-haired beauty his friend had been, but neither he nor his wife were sure what to make of it. Eleanor was content to observe, ladies are notorious for analyzing and speculating on a gentleman's every gesture, and her imagination was already running wild with ideas. John however, was not so keen on that path, and resolved to ask Darcy directly as soon as he returned indoors.

When the gentlemen rejoined the room, the Netherfield party were content to make themselves comfortable in the drawing room, before retiring to bed. John sat in one of the comfortable armchairs leisurely, his legs propped up on a cushioned foot rest. His wife sat in the chair next to him dozing lightly from the drowsy state wine always put her in. Mr. Hurst was now not only fully asleep, but snoring softly from his much beloved seat. His wife and her unmarried sister, still sat side by side, their conversation hushed from the others. Their host sat in the couch across from them stretched out just as leisurely as his brother did. His friend was once again by the window, looking out toward the night.

"So my dear, what think you of the two Miss Bennets?" John asked with a heavy sigh, patting his wife's hand gently.

"They were delightful, truly delightful," Eleanor yawned, rousing herself. "Miss Bennet was such a sweet young woman, and very rarely have I met a lady as naturally lively and good-humored as her sister."

"She played poorly." Darcy said, not turning around.

Caroline snickered in her seat. "Indeed Mr. Darcy, you are too cruel!"

Eleanor rolled her eyes, "The lady herself said she did not play well, and yet we were all instant upon her embarrassing herself. We behaved more poorly than she played. Perhaps when a young-lady says no, she is not always practicing at modesty."

John laughed heartily, taking his wife's hand in his own and bringing it to his lips to kiss. "I wonder, my darling. What exactly were you doing when you said no to me?"

His wife smiled at him with a knowing look, "A lady must have some secrets, Admiral." She said benignly.

A lull in conversation soon followed, and after a few minutes, Eleanor addressed her twin. "Jane Bennet would be a smart match for you Charles, if you are so inclined."

From his seat, Charles Bingley glanced up sharply, but before he could speak, there was an exclamation from more than one person. "Jane Bennet!" cried several voices, most particularly Caroline and Mr. Darcy.

"Yes." Said Eleanor, pulling herself up in her seat, "Charles and Miss Bennet are quite alike in temperament and in manner, from what I can tell so far. There is no denying that she is a dear, sweet, girl, and very beautiful. I understand that the family is not well off, but my brother is at a place in life where, I may say, he should have no fear that the demands of his pocket book out weigh those of the heart. He needs no woman's dowry to be rich, surly!"

"There can be no denying that Miss Bennet is an attractive and well-bred young woman." Darcy said, finally turning to address the other occupants in the room, "But then, you have not met the mother yet."

Caroline and Louisa laughed, while their sister frowned. John smiled, enjoying the spectacle that was about to commence, while Hurst continued to snore.

Caroline spoke, a vicious smirk on her lips. "She has told us," she drawled slowly, "That one uncle is an attorney in Meryton, and the other is in trade...in Cheapside!"

Charles, who had been watching the banter with wide eyes exclaimed, "I care not if they have enough uncles to fill all Cheapside, it would not make her one jot less agreeable to me!"

"However it significantly decreases the Bennet sisters' chances of marrying well. That is the material point, Charles." Darcy said, his voice steely.

John Alcott grinned impishly at his host. "Charles," he began, taking on the airs of a wise father giving a young son serious instruction, "you can forget wealth my boy, and forget connections and beauty as well. There is only one important quality in a wife, and that is broad hips. You want a wife who will be able to bare your legacy. A small slip of a thing is more likely to die in the child bed. You want a wife who will giver you strong sons to carry on the family name. By all means, marry Jane Bennet…her hips seemed wide and her shoulders strong from what I can tell!" Eleanor blushed at her husband's bold speech, and admonished him accordingly. Although the oldest person in the room, he was often times the least mature adult of her social sphere.

"Good God!" Charles exclaimed, "Do I get no say in what I want in a wife, or who I want that wife to be? I hardly suppose so, you lot all have your own versions of the perfect wife selected for me! I think Jane Bennet quite lovely and beautiful, there can be no denying that. I should not be sorry to know her better. But I am certainly not ready at this time to make an offer to any lady of my acquaintance. We shall leave it at that for now, I would have this debate end!"

"You do not like debating amongst friends Charles and you would have it stop." Darcy said, his tone softening.

"Indeed," Charles replied, "debates of this nature are far too similar to an argument, and arguments I abhor."

There was silence for a long while the company mulled over these thoughts. The silence was finally broken when the Admiral addressed the wealthiest man in the room by saying, "Now Darcy, about Elizabeth Bennet."

At the mention of Elizabeth Bennet's name, the entire atmosphere in the drawing room suddenly changed. While discussing the eldest Miss Bennet's merits, (or lack thereof) the mood had been lethargic and almost humorous, but at the mention of her sister, a thick tension hung in the air. The gentleman addressed stood rigidly, his previously impassive face now seemed very cold. Miss Bingley's eyes flashed, and she leaned forward in her seat, unwilling to miss a single word that was said on the subject. Her elder sister, seated next to her, glanced at the raven-haired woman worriedly, while her husband snored on.

Eleanor also leaned forward from her own spot, intent on catching every turn or phrase and inflection that Mr. Darcy uttered. She was equally as interested in his thoughts as Caroline was, but for completely different reasons. The Admiral seemed amused at the ruckus he was causing with a simple question, while Charles looked relieved to have the pressure off of himself.

"Excuse me?" Darcy finally asked, his voice as stiff as anyone had ever heard it.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet!" Alcott cried, jovially, "Your eyes certainly followed her this evening!"

"John!" Eleanor exclaimed sharply, sensing her friend's utter mortification. "Leave poor Mr. Darcy be, you are certainly talking nonsense."

Alcott laughed, his smile crossing his face from ear to ear. "Now you listen, old friend, and you listen well," he said, ignoring his wife's cry, "I'd say you admire Miss Eliza Bennet, I say you admire her most acutely!"

Bingley grinned, and his twin hid her smile behind her hand. Darcy and Caroline did not look amused at all. "Excuse the contradiction, Admiral, but I have no particular regard for Miss Bennet." He paused, feeling Caroline's eyes hot on his back. He added, "Or for any young lady of my acquaintance."

With this set down, Caroline's eyes flashed brilliantly with anger, and she leaned back into her seat. Louisa glanced toward her sister, and patted her hand lightly, when she thought no one would notice. John did notice, and laughed again, saying, "You will waste your life, Darcy, doing what society feels it is best. You run your own life, govern your own land. You are master of your own fate. You should feel free to admire any woman who pleases you, go hang what your family would say! They are not your keeper, and neither is the Ton!"

Darcy had been growing more and more angry with the conversation as it progressed, but those words cut him to the core. He was master of his own fate, was he not? Why should he let anyone else's opinions dictate to whom he paid his addresses? Had he been letting his Aunt Catherine and other odious relatives subconsciously guide him in his behavior in Hertfordshire?

Before he could reply, Eleanor spoke, her voice very hard. "I am exhausted. Admiral, it is time to retire." She said, her voice making it clear that this word was final.

With a sardonic bow to the company, the Admiral stood, offered his irate wife his arm, and lead her to their respective bedchambers, knowing that he would have to sleep alone that night.

As soon as the pair quit the room, Caroline let the insults building all day pour off her tongue. "What an insolent and crass man our sister has married!" She said to the room, "Eleanor had many suitors and could have married very well indeed! Our sister Beatrice is wed to a baron in Austria-Hungary!"

Louisa tutted and agreed with her sister, and Charles frowned. "The Admiral is a very decent sort of man, in my opinion." He said, rising in his seat. "He may not be the most genteel person, but he treats me sister very well, and he is her equal in wealth, and her superior in consequence."

Caroline shook her head, disagreeing with her brother. "Mr. Darcy, surely you would wish for you sister to make a better match than that!" She cried, seeking a more verbose ally in her feelings than Louisa.

"I certainly would." He replied loftily, only half listening.

"There, you see Charles?" Caroline crowed, "Mr. Darcy does not think that the crippled old sea-captain is a good enough match for his sister, why should you be content with it!"

"Admiral." Darcy interjected, flatly, turning toward his well loved window once more. "She married a crippled old sea-Admiral."

"Even so," Caroline said dismissively, "his rank has not helped his manners! My sister has been brought down by him as well in the years of their marriage. It vexes me greatly. I should be ashamed of the relation, if we were to appear in a public place together!"

"Quite so, my dear," Louisa said, following Caroline's lead, "he would not know how to behave himself amongst our circle."

"The pair of you are quite beyond me!" Charles cried, standing, "The only thing I want for my sisters is their happiness, and the Admiral has given Eleanor an abundance of happiness in marriage! Anyone can see that, as plain as day."

Caroline rose as well, Louisa following in her wake. "We will have to agree to disagree, Charles." She said, knowing that her efforts to persuade him were in vain. "Goodnight brother, Mr. Darcy." Louisa bid her brother and his friend goodnight as well, pausing only once to glance at her husband with distaste.

When the room was empty save for themselves, Bingley clapped Darcy on the shoulder, "I think it is time that I retired as well. Goodnight, old friend."

Darcy smiled at his companion, and bid him goodnight, but did not yet turn into bed himself. The words of John Alcott and of Charles Bingley were haunting him. He thought of how Alcott had told him to stop living life by other's rules, and to admire women where he pleased, and then thought of how Eleanor had happiness in marriage, despite what some members of her family thought of her choice.

He sighed, and headed up stairs, unsure of what to think, and wondering when he would find rest from his thoughts.

**o0o0o0o**

That same night when the Bennet sisters returned to Longbourne, they were forbidden from going to bed until they had given their mother a full account of the evening's proceedings. They talked in length of the fine meal they had eaten, and described every garment and accessory that the ladies had worn in full detail. They told of their new acquaintances, the Alcotts, and made sure to remark on how Mr. Bingley had placed his hand above Jane's own when he saw them out. With that happy thought for Mrs. Bennet, the pair were finally able to beg exhaustion and head to bed.

As the sisters prepared for sleep, Jane turned toward Lizzy with a happy smile, "Oh I do like the Alcotts, Lizzy, truly!"

Elizabeth smiled slyly at her older sister. "It is a relief to know that Mr. Bingley has one relation of whom he need not be ashamed!" She said, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight.

"Oh Lizzy!" Jane laughed, "That is not very kind of you. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have been very kind and obliging neighbors so far."

"Oh yes, I am sure they have been." Lizzy said, climbing into bed, "Jane you can not convince me to like them, I am simply not as good natured as you! You will have to be satisfied with my keeping my tongue in check when around them, for your sake."

Jane smiled at her sister as she brushed her long, blond hair. "Is that even possible, Lizzy?" She teasingly asked.

Lizzy let out a loud laugh, quickly covering her mouth to stifle it, lest it disturb her sleeping sisters. "You know me too well." She replied, smiling sweetly.

Jane stood, and kissed her sister on the top of her dark curls. "Goodnight Lizzy," she said quietly, going to quit the room.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Bingley!" Elizabeth called after her, as she had just reached the doorframe.

Jane turned to her sister with a reprimand, but could not keep a straight face as she tried to check her best friend. The pair soon broke out in a series of long, girlish giggles, unable to contain their merriment. After a hearty laugh shared between them, Jane finally quit the room, and Elizabeth drifted off to sleep.

Despite the late night, Elizabeth awoke early, and in a splendid mood. The rain had cleared, and it was a bright October morning. The air was still somewhat cool, but the birds chirped happily outside of her window. At breakfast, she listened to the nattering of her mother and her youngest sister, Lydia, without complaint. She smiled and ate, and talked with her father.

As the day grew brighter and warmer, Lizzy soon found that she could not bare to be kept indoors all day. She begged leave to go on a walk, and Mrs. Bennet was not pleased with the idea, "You obstinate girl, in all this mud? You will ruin your petticoat, there can be no doubt about that!" she huffed.

After pleading with her father for a brief moment, permission was granted.

"We will set you as far as Meryton, Lizzy." Kitty, the second youngest offered, as she added a new ribbon to an old bonnet.

"Yes, let's call on Captain Carter before he is dressed!" Lydia cried, "What a shock he will get!" The pair of militia-obsessed sisters giggled mischievously.

A plan was quickly resolved on, and soon after Lizzy found her feet taking her toward Netherfield, of their own accord. There was an overgrown and secluded area of little wilderness to one side of the property that she had played in often as a little girl. This particular spot had been a favorite of herself, Jane, and their good friend, Charlotte Lucas, as a prime spot to escape from the lessons of becoming a lady, and read literature their mothers would not approve of. Many novels, especially romances, were hidden in logs and thickets of grass, as well as a journal that the three friends would take turns writing in.

There was something in the air of that lovely autumn day that had Elizabeth in the mood to reminisce, and when she found herself at the grove, she searched in many logs and under several rocks for their journal. Finally finding it held down firmly by a large stone, underneath a bush, yellowed and deteriorating, she found herself delighted. Opening the book, she began to read, laughing aloud at the inventions they had created together in their youth. Elizabeth made herself comfortable on a patch of wet moss, and leaned against a tree. In those moments that last thing she was expecting was company, but company she had.

Without the distractions of the previous day, Caroline Bingley had been on the hunt for Darcy all morning. Knowing that the only place he could escape her was in the great outdoors, he finally ordered his horse ready and had set out to ride across the country side. With the wet, muddy ground, it had been a vigorous, dirty ride for both himself and his mount. They had been riding for some hours already, and Darcy had been very near to returning to the house when he had decided to take a leisurely ride through the trees on the southernmost end of the estate.

He had set out that morning with the full intent of spending as much of his day alone as possible. The last thing he had expected to see was the object of all his confusion, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, seated on the muddy ground, reading a book. He paused in his seat for a long moment, simply staring at her. The lady in question was so enraptured in her volume that she had not heard his approach. The late morning sunlight that hit her skin gave her a glow that he could not tear his eyes away from her. In that moment, he questioned his sanity for ever describing Miss Elizabeth Bennet as "tolerable". The view in front of his very eyes was the most beautiful one he had ever seen.

Finally, he brought himself to speak. He knew that if he did not, his horse would soon whine and give him away. He did not want to be caught staring. "Good morning, Miss Bennet." he said, trying to sound somewhat congenial.

Elizabeth started at his voice, and rose, embarrassed. She dropped into a curtsy and for a moment when her head was lowered, the spell or the morning glow was gone, and Darcy noticed how her dress was at least six inches deep in mud. When she looked up once more, the spell had only increased. The sunlight lit her face, and her bewitching eyes now held flecks of shimmering gold.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth replied, her brow arching to cover her embarrassment at being seen by him in so unladylike a moment.

There was a small silence, and then Darcy said, "I did not know that anyone frequented this part of the garden."

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth coldly replied, "this has been one of my favorite spots in Hertfordshire since I was a little girl. If you would like me to vacate the premise of the estate, I will be happy to oblige you, however."

From his seat on the horse, Darcy gave a sweeping bow. "No indeed, Miss Bennet. I am sorry to have invaded your privacy. I will not trespass any longer on your time. Please, feel free to explore the gardens to your heart's content."

Elizabeth nodded, unsure of what to say. Without taking any further leave of her, Darcy slapped his reign, and galloped away. Lizzy frowned at his retreating back, unsure of what to make of their exchange, no longer feeling welcome by the lovely piece of woods, she brushed off her skirt and headed toward home.

Meanwhile, Darcy raced back to Netherfield, but could not out race his thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet. They followed him from the grove into his very room, and stayed with him the rest of the day.

**o0o0o0o**

A week, and then two passed in which the Alcotts had stayed at Netherfield. After being scolded firmly by his wife, John Alcott did not mention another word of Elizabeth Bennet to his friend Darcy; it was a welcome reprieve to that gentleman, for he could not get the lady out of his head. The time passed quickly. Bingley was sure to call on all the principal inhabitants of the area with his sister and brother-in-law so that they could meet all the neighbors. When Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley finally had their dinner with the officers, the Admiral went along, and they spent a long, loquacious night being regaled with tales of battle from the two most war-hardened gentlemen, the Colonel and the Admiral himself.

Eleanor did her best to spend time with her two sisters and try to heal the breach that time had caused between them. Eleanor had never been particularly close with Caroline, or with Louisa, but they were still her family. For their part, the pair did their best to be pleasing and agreeable with their sister, and she went on all of their social calls with them. Since dining with the two eldest Bennet sisters they had been to call at Longbourne three times, and Eleanor grew more and more delighted with their acquaintance all the time.

The mother was something ridiculous, to be sure, but Eleanor could only imagine what her own mother would have been like, had they been a significantly less wealthy family. The two youngest girls had been in attendance only once, and Eleanor wrote both of them off as being young and silly. She could forgive them that easily. The middle girl, Mary, was awfully dour, but she forgave her that as well. The Bennet Patriarch she had yet to meet.

After two pleasant weeks, the first post for the Alcotts arrived in Hertfordshire. There were several unimportant missives from acquaintances in Bath which could be answered at any time. There was one letter from an odious cousin of John's named Penelope, which was answered hastily and with strong words. The most important note was from Emily Alcott, the wife of John's elder brother.

Andrew and Emily had been married some five years, but had been yet to successfully conceive a child. Two times Emily had believed herself to be with-child, and both times had been false alarms. In the past year, Emily had become dead certain that she was barren, and was attempting to have her sister-in-law send little John to live with her and her husband. Eleanor loved her brother and sister-in-law dearly, and though her son was currently the heir to the vast Alcott estate and all the inheritance, the idea of having her child so far from her was terrifying to Eleanor. He was still very young, and in her opinion, there was still a hope that Emily would conceive and carry a child to term. What was worse was that John agreed with his sister-in-law, and thought that sending his son to live in the estate he would most likely inherit made the most sense.

When the letter arrived, they fought on the topic with more vehemence than they ever had before. The older little John grew, the less likely the Admiral was to back down from his side, and the child would be eight years old in less than a month's time. In Eleanor's little room, which until that morning had only been a place of happy times together, the pair screamed at each other with lusty cries.

"What I will consent to, sir," Eleanor hissed, her blue eyes bright, "is that you leave the raising of your children to their mother!"

"They are my children too, and I will not have you baby my sons for the rest of your life! You will not even allow us to visit with my brother and sister as family, to see how John gets on with them! You have to let him go!" The Admiral thundered, his voice reverberating throughout the room.

Eleanor crossed the small space toward her husband, unshed tears shining in her eyes. "You treat my John as if he is already a full grown man. He is a child, Alcott! I am doing nothing that no ordinary mother would not do! I have so few years with him before he is grown, and you would rob me of them!"

John sighed sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I am not trying to rob you of anything, madam. Soon our son will be in school, then university, and then to tour the continent if there is peace by then. I would have him know my brother and my sister before they have passed on! I would have him know and understand what exactly he is inheriting!"

Eleanor scowled. "You would have him know what you _want_ him to inherit, not what he is!" She cried out, "As long as your brother lives, there is still a chance that he may have a son of his own. You, Andrew, and Emily would all give our son a sense of entitlement to wealth and to an estate that is not rightfully his, and he will resent you for it when he grows older!"

John's face hardened. "It is not my fault that Andrew chose to marry a woman who was already a resigned spinster. Emily is already past her thirtieth year. What possible hope does she have of conceiving?"

"Perhaps not as much as a ripe girl of sixteen, John. But plenty indeed! Just because you were content to bed someone closer to a child's age than a woman's does not mean that a woman of Emily's age is incapable of carrying a child." Eleanor glowered.

John stood sharply, his normally swarthy complexion completely pale with anger. His dark eyes stared widely at his young wife, without a trace of humor. "Ellie…" he began quietly, sounding broken, before trailing off.

Eleanor stared at her husband, amazed at her own words. She was so shocked that she could not bring herself to speak, although millions of thoughts raced through her mind in rapid succession.

After a moment of silence, John sighed heavily. Without giving his pregnant wife a second glance, he turned and quit the room. He stood tall, containing his limp as best he could, despite the fact that he had left his cane leaning against the bed.

His wife watched him go with a heavy heart, but did not know what to say to make him stay.

It was a late October afternoon that the Netherfield party was invited to tea at Longbourne. The sun shone brightly, but the first of the winter's chill was truly upon them, and the company dressed warmly for traveling out. Despite their quarrel, Mr. and Mrs. Alcott both decided to attend, as they had already given their word, and did not want to put Mrs. Bennet out. The ladies of Netherfield road inside the carriage, each with their own hot brick to keep them warm for the short journey. Darcy and Bingley preferred to ride, while John road on the top of the coach next to the driver, unable to ride any longer, but unwilling to be cooped up in a small space with his wife, while they were so angry with one another.

Arriving at Longbourne, they found a pleasant enough party inside. The Bennet family was assembled, nearly to their entirety. The lone gentleman of the house was in attendance, making this the first time Eleanor and John were to make his acquaintance. The two youngest of the Bennet girls were not at home at that moment, but were expected soon with two or three officers to come and take tea with them. The only other guests were with Lady Lucas and her eldest daughter Charlotte, quiet, intelligent, and genteel women.

Greetings, and for those who were still strangers, introductions, went around in their due course. Once the social niceties had been properly followed, the Netherfield party fanned out among the room. Charles took Jane's hand and lead her the corner of the room, in order to have a more quiet conversation with the lady. Darcy found a window, and claimed it has his own, staring out onto the Bennet's garden. Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Mrs. Alcott, made their seats on the sofa, facing Mrs. Bennet's armchair. John Alcott was given a chair from the dining room and a footstool to make himself comfortable, and very soon found himself engaged in a lively conversation with Mr. Bennet.

To her own, and Miss Bingley's dismay, Elizabeth found herself standing near Mr. Darcy for a moment or two, while more chairs were brought into the room to accommodate all of the guests. There was a tension between them that was palpable, and it took all of Eleanor's will-power to not turn around in her seat and stare. Elizabeth felt uneasy in her own drawing room standing next to him, but decided that today, her courage would not fail her. As the others were all engaged in various conversations, she turned to her silent companion and said with a teasing tone:

"Does our garden please you sir?"

Startled from his silent reverie, Darcy's head snapped toward the speaker. Since that sunny morning two weeks previously, his head had been filled with nothing but Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Having been part of the calling party to Longbourne only once since that initial encounter, he had been both anticipating this day, this very moment, but also had grown more and more apprehensive as the event drew near. When they finally arrived at Longbourne, he found himself unable to look at her, into those eyes, without becoming lost. Staring out the window had been his only reprieve. Now she spoke to him and he stared at her once again, drowning in a hazel whirlpool. The power she unknowingly held over him both frightened and enthralled him.

"It is a very fine piece of lawn, Miss Elizabeth." He finally said, his voice the very embodiment of solemnity.

The corners of Lizzy's mouth turned upwards, but she refused to fully smile at the proud, severe, gentleman with whom she conversed. Her opinion of Mr. Darcy had at first been very harsh, but she was beginning to believe that he was more than just a proud man; he was a very odd one, almost like a tragic hero in one of the novels hidden in her grove! "Yes, well, we do our best to keep the yard well-maintained, Mr. Darcy." She replied with only a hint of mischief.

Darcy turned his whole body, so as to fully face her. "Your servants are to be congratulated, Miss Elizabeth." he replied, his own tone lightening somewhat.

Elizabeth raised a sardonic brow at her guest. "I will see to it that my father budgets for an increase in salary in the approaching year." She responded, stifling a laugh.

Suddenly, Mrs. Bennet's voice cut across the room to where they stood. She was talking of the newest gossip with an amused Eleanor, and an ever-annoyed Caroline and Louisa. "And I have had it from Mrs. Lounge, whom had it from her niece, and I am not quite so very sure where she had it from, but we have heard that Colonel Foster is to be married! Oh what a shame for my girls!" Mrs. Bennet was saying.

Hearing the shrill tones, Darcy's eyes once more turned toward the window. Elizabeth flushed, embarrassed by both her mother's volume and the nature of her conversation. Her mercenary tendencies were mortifying enough when in the presence of the family alone, to speak so in front of guests was unacceptable.

Eleanor quickly cut her off, her voice full of delighted interest in these people whom she barely knew. "Shame? How so Mrs. Bennet?"

"Well The good Colonel has two or three thousand a year, and I want all my daughters to make good marriages. Of course, you can't always get what you want, "she said glaring at Mr. Darcy's back, "But sometimes we all receive little blessings." She added, smiling warmly toward Jane and Mr. Bingley.

Caroline did her best to keep her composure but could not help but to say, "Mrs. Bennet, two or three thousand a year isn't making a particularly good match."

"And why is it not?' Mrs. Bennet asked, affronted, "My girls are not so lucky as to have dowries you know."

With those words, Lizzy winced slightly, her eyes drifting towards Mr. Darcy's face. Though his expression remained in its neutral, forever impassive façade, she thought she could discern a slight hardening of the jaw. Though Lizzy tried to convince herself that she did not care what the arrogant Mr. Darcy thought of herself and her family, for whatever reason she was becoming more and more mortified by her mother's conversation.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said, forcing herself to be very brave, indeed. "since you seem to have such an interest in our gardens, perhaps I can persuade you to escort me in a turn about the lawn, so I can acquaint you with our wildlife more specifically."

There was a brief pause after the invitation had been said where Darcy was completely at a loss as to what he should say in reply. What finally prompted him to speak was the sound of Caroline's voice, inquiring to Mrs. Bennet as to what _exactly _the Bennet sisters were to inherit. Elizabeth was not the only one who was embarrassed by her party.

"That would be a delight, Miss Elizabeth." Mr. Darcy responded, his voice relieved. "Perhaps we can persuade my friend and your sister to accompany us hence."

The pair was prevailed upon to journey with them out of doors, and were glad to accompany their friends. Miss Lucas volunteered herself to chaperone the party, and Miss Bingley seethed at the thought of Eliza Bennet taking a turn in the lawn on the arm of Mr. Darcy, while her sister Eleanor was delighted with the turn of events.

Mr. Darcy, intent on behaving in a gentlemanly manner, took Miss Elizabeth on his right arm and Miss Lucas on his left. Charlotte was all polite conversation with the wealthy gentleman, and attempted to find a conversation for the trio that would be of neutral ground. They avoided a discussion of Jane and Bingley, who had fallen behind quite considerably.

"Where are your sisters today, Lizzy?" Charlotte asked, when she could think of little else to say on the fineness of the weather that day.

"Lydia and Kitty have gone into Meryton to visit my Aunt Phillips," Lizzy answered, uncomfortable hanging onto Mr. Darcy, "They should be arriving soon to take tea with us. I believe they are bringing some officers with them."

Charlotte laughed, a low, pleasant sound. "Mrs. Bennet will be very happy to host them all comfortably."

There was a long pause as they made their way amongst the various shrubs and dying flowers. Finally Mr. Darcy spoke, saying, "There are some officers I have met who I like more than others."

Although unable to subtly meet Charlotte's eye across the broad-expense of Darcy's chest, Elizabeth was sure that her face must have an equally curious expression as her own. Mr. Darcy was always serious, but his speech in that moment had been positively cold.

Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it of speculations regarding the gentleman's behavior, Elizabeth archly replied, "I suppose that could be said of people anywhere, Mr. Darcy."

Briefly lost in his thoughts, Darcy almost started when he heard her voice. She was in the height of her beauty when out-of-doors, and he found that the afternoon light was just as pleasing to her complexion as the morning sun was. There was a light breeze, and they swept the tendrils at the nape of her neck into the air in the most pleasing fashion. Amongst the shrubbery and the lawn, her eyes sparkled with flecks of a rich creamy green, almost the color of jade. Fascinated, he observed her face and eyes for a long moment, and Elizabeth did her best not squirm under his intense scrutiny.

Turning from him and refusing to look at him directly again, the trio walked companionably for some time, making polite conversation. Between Charlotte Lucas's good sense and good breeding, Elizabeth's lively personality, and Darcy's taciturn nature, they were somehow able to make the time pass between them. Elizabeth was glad to have taken both Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy out of hearing distance from her mother for some fifteen minutes at least.

Eventually both propriety and the weather eventually had the group return indoors. Elizabeth was reluctant to leave the crisp autumn air for the stuffy drawing room, but did not protest aloud, knowing she was expected inside. When they returned to the party, Mrs. Bennet was still gossiping happily, although thankfully she had moved from the subject of the Bennet daughters' fortunes.

"Lizzy my dear!" Mrs. Bennet called upon seeing her daughter reenter the room, "I am glad you are come! I have news of John Wilkerson, your very first suitor!"

Lizzy could not help but groan somewhat at the mention of that eager young man's name. His family resided on the same street as her Aunt and Uncle in London, and Elizabeth had stayed with their family many times. Any time she was there, he was a most persistent and earnest caller, despite her rebuffs.

Eleanor laughed at Elizabeth's expression and said, "There are few women, Mrs. Bennet, who care to hear about the first man who attempted to woo them! There are reasons, after all, that he was not the last!"

Elizabeth laughed; a light, tinkling sound. Darcy had returned to his spot by the window, but did not look outside, lest he be teased about the gardens once more. Instead he watched her, staring openly at the back of her head, sure that no one would notice him.

"Your mother's conversation has been most diverting and _enlightening_, Miss Eliza." Caroline said as the lady made herself comfortable amongst them.

One eyebrow slanted upward across a pale brow at the unspoken insult from Miss Bingley. Lizzy felt a flash of anger within her for a moment, but decided instead to make her look ridiculous. Anger and humiliation were responses that Caroline Bingley would relish in, if she hated her so, but being laughed at was not something the lady-in-question would know how to handle. "Indeed, I imagine that it must have been so, Miss Bingley," Elizabeth said, subtly acknowledging her own mother to be ridiculous to the lady, "Mr. Darcy also had many diverting and enlightening thing to share, himself." She smiled politely, and turned toward her mother in conversation, before the lady addressed could make a proper response.

Inwardly, Darcy laughed. Ever since the arrival of the Alcotts to Hertfordshire, Caroline had been especially vicious and crass. They were always elements of her personality, but when not in London, they were magnified, and when provoked by her sister Eleanor and her husband, they were multiplied. To see Elizabeth's turn of phrase toward Miss Bingley delighted him to no end. A woman of her nature needed to set down from time to time, and seeing a miss-country-nothing do it so deftly was a sight to behold.

Pulled from his thoughts, he heard Mrs. Bennet speaking once more. She was addressing Mrs. Lucas, specifically, although she spoke to the room. "He is a delightful young man, very genteel and good natured. I can not understand Lizzy's reluctance to encourage him!"

Mrs. Lucas smiled, and reassured her friend that there was plenty of time for Miss Eliza to make a good match. It went unspoken that her own daughter's time was up, although they all thought it. Lizzy glanced toward her friend, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Charlotte smiled thinly, bearing the knowledge that she was now a certified spinster with forbearance and a good deal of humor.

"You would be quite lucky to have him, Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet hummed, addressing her daughter, "He wrote such a pretty little sonnet for you too."

Eleanor laughed heartily, thinking of the days before her marriage to the admiral. "Indeed, Miss Bennet, a sonnet? How very refined!"

Lizzy laughed as well, and said with a sigh, "I remember Mr. Wilkerson well, Mama, and I remember the sonnet with greater dread."

From his position behind Miss Elizabeth, Darcy spoke before he even realized what he was doing. "Why would that be Miss Elizabeth?" He asked, his voice as deep and solemn as always, "Poetry is supposed to be the food of love."

All of the women seated in conversation, turned toward him, shocked by his outburst. The look on his own face suggested that he too, was similarly effected.

After a brief moment in which Elizabeth regained her wits, she archly replied, "Can not some food spoil one's appetite?"

Despite the argument they had earlier in the day, Eleanor glanced toward where her husband sat with Mr. Bennet. Their eyes met and an unspoken message went between them. The pair was now positive that there was something worth watching between Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"I will concede to you on that point, Miss Bennet." Darcy replied, "But food as a whole generally does more to please than to revolt."

Elizabeth's brow was raised once more, this time in surprise. Although he always spoke so severely, she was almost positive that the gentleman was _teasing _her. "If it were admissible to contradict a man of your standing and education Mr. Darcy, I would without hesitation, sir." She responded with a mockery of demureness, "Instead, I can only say this. Do we not all have all different preferences when it comes to our food? A dish you favor may be one that I detest."

The corners of his mouth turned upward only the slightest bit, but everyone looking on noticed and were amazed by it, for various reasons. Caroline was growing more and more livid by the moment, and longing for the time when they could quit the Bennet's parlor and return to Netherfield. Before the gentleman could be questioned or teased further, bright gay voices were heard in the hall.

Lydia and Kitty were returned from their calls in Meryton, and as promised had some officers in tow with them to take tea. Lieutenant Denny was a handsome young man, as well as polite and obliging. All of the Bennet sisters thought well of him, but there was a particular attachment between the gentleman and the two youngest girls. Another gentleman was with them as well, looking very fine in his regimentals. He was unknown to most of the party, but a select few knew him very, _very_, well.

"Mama!" Lydia screeched, full of delight, "Mama, I would like you to meet Mr. George Wickham. Wickham, this is my mother Mrs. Bennet."

While Lydia and Kitty made gay introductions, seemingly unaware of the tension growing all around them, Lizzy looked between Mr. Darcy and this new officer with increasing alarm. Wickham inclined his head toward Darcy in acknowledgment, and Darcy paled, his eyes flashing with anger. Her eyes darted toward Mrs. Alcott, who had grown very pale indeed, and then towards her husband. The Admiral's swarthy complexion and merry eyes were very hard indeed, although his lips were curled upward into a twisted smile.

After the first introductions went around, Wickham and Denny took their seats. Lydia chatted amiably about the gossip she had learned in town to her mother, while the other paid no mind to her. Everyone in the room was looking between the two men with increasing alarm. Even Jane and Bingley grew quiet in their corner to observe the scene.

Just as the awful silence touched even Lydia's lips, Admiral Alcott took his opportunity to speak. "Wickham!" he cried with false merriment, his face turned into a ferocious caricature of his usual good humor, "I haven't seen you since Ramsgate, by God!"

Lizzy was unsure if the room had actually darkened or if it was her imagination, but she was beginning to grow very afraid of the look on Mr. Darcy's face. She exchanged worried glances with her friend and with her favorite sister, all wondering at what exactly was happening before them.

"No indeed," Mr. Wickham replied, his face flushed.

"Mrs. Alcott and I were there on holiday," the Admiral continued, rising in his seat and taking a threatening step forward, "what business brought you there again…?" he inquired, his tone implying he knew the answer.

Lizzy, ever observant, noticed the way Eleanor's eyes snapped upward, toward Mr. Darcy. His hands were in balled into fists by his sides, his knuckles a very pale white. "Mr. Darcy." Eleanor said sharply, her voice cold and severe, "You look remarkably unwell. We should return to Netherfield with all due haste."

The Netherfield party took note of their friend's distress, and departed with due haste. Mrs. Bennet was becoming increasingly cross with her youngest for bringing such a gentleman into her home to scare Mr. Bingley away from Jane, and could not be comforted for the loss of his company. Ranting about her nerves and how her children were determined that they should all starve in the poor house once their father was cold in his grave, she quit the room and retired to her bedchamber.

Mr. Bennet, evidently amused by the turn of events, inquired to Mr. Wickham as to just what exactly had occurred before them in his house. Wickham, ever smooth, told a well fabricated tale of his troubles to the attentive guests. Mr. Darcy was not thought of well by the company, and after he concluded, was declared to be the very blackest of villains by the ladies present to hear it. There were only three listening who had doubts as to the veracity of Wickham's claims. Jane was quite distressed at the idea of any man behaving so very badly, and was determined that there had been some very grave misunderstanding; Charlotte had too much good sense to believe any story told to her immediately; and after the officers quit the house much later in the afternoon, Mr. Bennet reminded his family that Mr. Darcy may yet turn out to be no more a villain than the average rich man used to getting his own way.

From there the family party moved onto more pretty subjects, such as what they thought of Mr. Bingley's latest relations. When Lydia declared Admiral Alcott's wooden leg to be horrid, Mr. Bennet replied, "Horrid you say? I thought I saw a very fine deal of craftsmanship in the gentleman's apparatus. It was a good quality wood, and very well polished at that."

Laughing, the girls returned to their daily chores. It had been a very interesting and exciting day, and listening to their father go on about the stylish body and practicality of the Admiral's wooden leg was a very good way to end it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes: **_As always, thank you so much for the reviews! I've been getting a lot of wonderful feedback, and it has been really thrilling seeing the new and renewed interest in this story. Please, PLEASE, point out grammatical errors, typos, and spelling issues as you see them. If you are more knowledge in Regency era society, and you see something in my story that could not, or would not happen, PLEASE point it out to me. I take all crtiques very seriously and am doing my best to address them. I know that the first few chapters have really been dominated by the Alcotts, but in order to establish the characters in the readers' minds, I thought it was best to get everyone aquainted with Eleanor and John as quickly as possible, to establish who these people are in this world. _

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**CHAPTER 4:**

Upon returning to Netherfield, Darcy was free to let his emotions run wild. In the privacy of his own room, he could yell in frustration as he could not in the Bennet household. He had known Wickham had taken a commission in the militia, but had never expected to see him in Hertfordshire. Now he was here, and Darcy was unsure of what should be done. He wanted nothing more than to have his fist connect itself with Wickham's well defined jaw, but knew that such behavior was below the conduct of a gentleman. He wanted to warn the families of the area to keep their daughters locked away from him, to advise the merchants to issue the man no credit, but knew that to do so would mean exposing his private business to a people who were very keen on gossiping.

His pride waged war with his conscious as he thought of what was best to be done. If Georgiana was not involved, it would be very simple for him to make Wickham's character known to the general public. The more Darcy contemplated the subject, the more he realized that there was no real way to expose Wickham credibly, without tarnishing his own sister's good name, and that was something he would not do under any circumstance. Georgiana was more precious to him than anything in the world, and to protect her was his only goal. Without explaining what had happened to his sister, there was no way the people of Meryton would believe his tale, and there was no possible way he would be induced to expose her.

He was tiring of Hertfordshire quickly. It invoked too many old memories, and created too many new, and disturbing emotions. In the two weeks since their chance encounter in the Hertfordshire wilderness, Darcy could not stop his mind from drifting toward the thought of Elizabeth Bennet. He had no interest in forming an attachment to a country girl of little importance, since she would be a disappointment to his family, yet at the same time began to second guess that notion more and more. He knew that the solution to all of his problems was to quit Charles' house, but only just a few days previously, Charles had announced his plan to hold a ball on the 26th of November. Having never before been in control of his own estate and having never hosted such a large event, he would be relying on Darcy heavily to guide him, and the gentleman could not bow out at that point in time, when he friend would need him the most.

In other rooms of the estate, there were minds equally as occupied as Darcy's, although for different reasons. Caroline was deeply troubled at Mr. Darcy's behavior toward Eliza Bennet. Before coming to Hertfordshire and making the acquaintance of the Bennet family, her conquest of Mr. Darcy had been going remarkably well. For some months previously, he had been responding well to her subtle overtures, and Caroline had deemed it only a matter of time before their flirtation became an engagement. She had agreed to keep house for her brother in Hertfordshire knowing Darcy would be in attendance. Caroline's logic had been that out of the society and diversions that Town provided, she would finally be able to gain Mr. Darcy's full and undivided attention. Instead she was finding herself whittled out by a country-nothing without a dowry!

Greatly vexed, Caroline could only find relief from her frustrations by lashing out with her tongue whenever an occasion arose. She had no one she could truly confide in on the subject, not even Louisa, for she was as empty headed as her husband was a drunk. Her sharp wit was quickly morphing into a very dark, cruel humor in her desperation to secure a husband. She was five-and-twenty, and although all the Bingleys were well-favored, she was the last of her sisters to be married. If her brother was serious about Jane Bennet, and could not be persuaded away from her, she would be the last of her siblings to be married, at that!

In her boudoir Caroline mulled over the events of their call to Longbourne, thinking of Mr. Darcy taking a stroll in the lawn with Eliza Bennet on his arm. Since her brother-in-law's drunken accusation that Darcy admired Eliza, she could not shake the suspicion out of her mind. She thought of their conversation of poetry with abhorrence, remembering the second Bennet's pert opinions and thinking they were sure to displease the gentleman she thought she knew so well. It was a relief to her that the Bennets were so poorly connected and that they had such a mother. Darcy was rich enough that he had no need to marry for wealth if it did not suit him, but there was no way that he would lower himself with such a family.

**o0o0o0o**

Upon returning to Netherfield and finding themselves alone once more, John and Eleanor's argument continued, more heated than ever. As soon as they had crossed over into the privacy of their bedchamber, Eleanor turned to her husband and lay a resounding slap across his face.

There was a second's pause between them, as John raised his arm to slap her back. Just as soon as his hand was in the air, it fell down to his side. Dejected, he sat on the side of the bed. "Eleanor…" he sighed slowly, all of his anger lost.

Eleanor stood before him, all righteous fury. Her skin was blotchy red, and her bright blue eyes shone with unshed tears. "How could you!" She cried, her hands gesticulating wildly into the empty space before her. "How could you bring yourself to do such a thing!"

John's head rested in his hand, his eyes downcast. When he looked up at her, his expression was as hard as she had ever seen him. "Please madam," He said carefully, taking his time to choose his words, "if your mean to accuse me of a slight of some kind, be so good as to tell me what it is I have done to cause you so much anger."

Eleanor almost hissed, her rage boiling over the edge. "Do not pretend ignorance, Alcott!" She declared hotly, "That you would attempt to expose Fitzwilliam and Georgiana so!"

His eyes flashed dangerously. He spoke softly in contrast to her shrill yells, and said in a alarming, low tone, "You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns."

His wife huffed, unbelieving that her husband's jealousy would come into play at such a moment. "Who that have known what his troubles have been can help but take an interest in him? He is your relation, not mine!" She snapped, annoyed.

John rose, wobbling slightly without his cane. He crossed most of the distance between them and said in a velvet growl of anger, "You went out of your way to learn what those concerns were."

Unimpressed, Eleanor matched his step with her own. "I never sought the knowledge of Georgiana's intended elopement. We went to Ramsgate on holiday, we happened upon relatives of yours in the same place, called upon them, only to discover the family in the midst of a very personal drama, and I was confided in by both Fitzwilliam and his sister, simply because I was there!"

Dark eyes glinted with barely repressed fury. Leaning down so that their faces were separated only by a hair's breadth, the Admiral hissed, "My wife make's liberal use of a gentleman's Christian name. I see no reason for that."

Blue eyes turning very cold, Eleanor shot back, "My husband make's liberal use of another women's legs. I see no reason for that."

With her words, John whipped back as if she had dealt him a physical blow. Another slap from his young wife would have been less shocking than to hear her speak thusly. "And this is your opinion of me?" He asked, genuinely surprised.

Glancing at him with all the superior disdain of a Queen looking at a mud-covered, putrid, peasant, Eleanor turned on her heel and quit the room without another word. This time it was John who watched her go, and he did not know how to make her stay.

The following morning, Eleanor awoke alone in her bed with a feeling a dread. Her alarm was purely instinctual, but it was intense and could not be appeased. At breakfast with her brother and sisters, a footman delivered her a note on a silver tray. Instantly recognizing her husband's handwriting, Eleanor felt her stomach drop. It was not unlike John to be late to breakfast or to skip it entirely, so she had thought nothing of it, until that moment. With shaking hands, she opened the note and read:

_Ellie,_

_As I write to you, I am filled with the knowledge that I am the most selfish prig in the country. Forgive me, my darling. I instructed Charles' man to have this delivered to you as soon as you were awake, so that you did not look for me and worry. I am afraid that I have fled. The fleets of Napoleon did little to frighten me, my beautiful girl, but you are terrifying in all your glorious anger. The events of yesterday have solidified two points quite firmly into my mind. The first is that you deserve a better husband than me, the second that as undeserving as I am, I am often correct._

_I am to my brother's for some weeks, in the hopes of having my son and his uncle grow to know one another. I have absconded with our eldest, although be assured that Charles and Anna are sure to be resting comfortably in the nursery as you read this. It is time that you were parted from your son for some time, and that he learned some independence as well. He is in good care with me, despite what you may think, and Andrew and Emily dote upon him. _

_When my time with my brother ends, I go into Derbyshire. There is a small estate in the northernmost part of the county for sale, and it is my intention to purchase it, and make a permanent home for our family in the countryside. It is very near to your friends, and I think you would be well pleased to be settled there. I fully intend to be with you again when the time draws near for our happy day, and I will not leave you again after you have given me yet another child, but I do not attend to return before then._

_Feel free to make ample use of both the house in Town and the house in Bath. _

_I will only add that I love you, in spite of how this may appear, and God Bless you._

_Love, _

_John _

The range of emotions that raced through Eleanor Alcott was an unparalleled experience for her. Never before had she felt so many thing all at one time. Her heart was breaking, she was sure of it, yet at the same time she wanted to cut her husband through. How dare he rob her of her child! How dare he decide what was best for their family!

Little John was not even eight years old, still a young child to be taken from his mother and his siblings. Eleanor loved her brother and sister in-law dearly, but John was her child, and she would not let them try to replace her as his parent, just because they had no heir!

With a reserve of strength she never knew she had, Eleanor calmly informed her brother that Admiral Alcott had been called away on urgent family business. Hiding her despair from everyone, she found two of her children safe and secure with their governess. They were confused by the absence of their elder brother from the lessons, but did not let it distress them.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Alcott." Miss O'Reilly said to her mistress in hushed tones, "There was nothing I could say that would persuade the Admiral otherwise. He is my employer, after all, and I could not speak out of my place."

Eleanor nodded, not blaming the poor woman for following John's ludicrous instructions to pack John's things in the middle of the night. As she said, John was the employer, and as a servant, she could only give so much protest without crossing a line.

Unsure of how she felt, Eleanor retired to her room for the day, and let weary tears fall unseen.

**o0o0o0o**

At Longbourne, the day arose to very pleasant prospects. Although Mrs. Bennet had been extraordinarily vexed at having Bingley leave before he had taken tea, she had managed to secure him for a family dinner sometime within the course of the month. This had managed to please her enough to be forgiving of poor Mr. Wickham, and his slight was almost forgotten as she discussed his misfortunes with her daughters.

"Oh my dear, I can not stop thinking of poor Wickham's predicament.' Mrs. Bennet spoke to no one party in particular.

"Yes, Mama," Jane replied as she laid jam on a slice of warm toast, "But his story is also an odd one. I do not like Mr. Darcy so very well, but we must not place judgment so lightly. Perhaps it was all a great misunderstanding!"

"If anyone," Elizabeth said saucily, "in the whole of our acquaintance was to do such a thing as that, out of pride or whatever may be, I would have to wager it would be Mr. Darcy. And besides Jane, he had the every air of telling the truth, and the little I know of the facts of Mr. Darcy, everything confirms it."

"I do not think it very right to chose sides," Jane said softly, knowing that if in fact Mr. Darcy was so very bad, then Mr. Bingley was deceived in him as well.

"But," Elizabeth replied, "If we have to, I for one find myself more inclined to be on that of Mr. Wickham's."

"Oh yes, poor Wickham!" exclaimed their mother, "We have had nothing but ill tidings from that Mr. Darcy since he entered the county. I wish him away again!"

"You never know, Lizzy," said Mr. Bennet from his place at the head of the table, "but Mr. Darcy might turn out to be nothing more of an evil villain then your average rich man, just as I said to you last afternoon. There are many such stories as these from those that wished they were born into a higher rank." Lizzy frowned at her father, willing to believe the worst of Mr. Darcy in that moment, and seeing that his protests were in vain changed the subject saying, "At least the visit was not entirely wasted, I was very happy to make the acquaintance of the esteemed admiral and his wife."

Elizabeth laughed lightly, "There is one sister of Mr. Bingley's whom I believe I may be able to converse with easily. And he seems like a very intelligent, thoughtful, if not well cultured man."

"Indeed, Lizzy?" Jane asked, "I still do not see how you do not like Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst."

"Those, sisters I think less of, I confess. But let us be thankful that your Mr. Bingley does not have entirely irksome connections." Elizabeth laughed.

Just as Jane began to protest that he was not her Mr. Bingley, the post arrived and two most extraordinary things happened.

The first was a letter from Mr. Bingley, a formal invitation to a ball at Netherfield! As the family ate together, Mrs. Bennet talked on about what a compliment to Jane this ball must be, and schemed as to how she should arrange her daughter's hair for the event. This happy speech was interrupted by the second, an announcement by Mr. Bennet, done in the usual fashion.

"I hope, my dear, that you have ordered a good meal for the night, for I have reason to expect a guest of some distinction." Mr. Bennet announced, his tone ever-sardonic.

After several guesses as to who it could be, (all of Kitty and Lydia's suggestions being officers, at that) Mr. Bennet finally told his eager girls, "Our guest for some duration will be the man upon whom your entire future depends, the odious cousin who shall inherit Longbourne upon my death."

After some exclamations against such a man, Mr. Bennet calmed his wife and children and they allowed him to read aloud the letter from this cousin. His talk of making amends to all his _amiable_ cousins had Mrs. Bennet all aflutter with plans to accommodate this now most welcome guest. His daughters were not similarly excited by the prospect.

For Lizzy, the day had turned sour with the second piece of news. Mr. Collins was coming to Longbourne, and for whatever reason, she was absolutely dreading the moment he arrived.

**o0o0o0o**

Never before had Elizabeth Bennet been so sorry to be so right. Her cousin, Mr. Collins, the future master of Longbourne, was insupportable. The man was pompous, over-bearing, and just somewhat strange. When he had first arrived, a fortnight previous, Lizzy had been content to laugh at his foibles with her father. They both delighted in the ridiculous and absurd, and there was plenty of that to be had in Mr. Collins. As time passed, and Mr. Collins became determined to pay court to his fair-cousin, Elizabeth quickly found herself at her wits end. He was no longer as amusing as he had first appeared.

Although she knew there was no possible way she could bring herself to accept a suit from such a man, nothing she did to rebuff him seemed to be working. Her cousin was so enraptured with himself that the idea that anyone else would not be similarly enthralled was not an option that crossed his mind, whatsoever. Her mother was not helping her situation either. For all that Lizzy deftly avoided Mr. Collins' advances, Mrs. Bennet encouraged them. Since her daughters lacked a dowry of any consequence, it was her duty to see them all married well, and considering Mr. Collins was to inherit the estate at the time of Mr. Bennet's death, marriage to him would be the ideal situation for any one of her daughters.

Time spent in the company of her cousin was unusually embarrassing for Elizabeth. Her family tended to make a nuisance of themselves wherever they went, but in the community they were well liked and respected, despite being a rather silly group. Mr. Collins however, was not well liked, and there was little to respect in him that the neighborhood could detect. The people of Meryton were an obliging and polite sort, and thusly felt it was their duty to include the clergymen in all their invitations, despite knowing him but a little, and liking him less.

The kindness of her neighbors was more of a punishment for Lizzy than anything else. Because of their goodness, there was no escaping Mr. Collins' endless tirade of compliments except in the comfort of her own bed. Her normal retreat was to go out doors, but as the autumn grew into a gray, dreary winter, the days grew wetter, darker, and shorter.

Every day his attentions grew more and more marked as Lizzy tried harder and harder to rebuff him, while attending a party at Lucas Lodge, she begged him to retrieve her a glass of punch, just to have him step away from her side for a moment. Seeing her friend's distress, Charlotte took her by the arm and lead her away from the rest of the party, into a quiet corner of the room.

"Lizzy!" She laughed, her voice mock-serious, "When am I to wish you joy!"

Lizzy scowled, not finding Charlotte's joke amusing in the least. After two weeks of enduring Mr. Collins' courtship with civility and decorum, she could no longer find humor in her situation. "The moment you are to wish me joy, Charlotte," Lizzy muttered darkly, "you will be the first to know. But you can trust in me that it will not be any time in the near future."

Charlotte lowered her voice, so that she would not be overheard. "Your cousin seems most persistent, Miss Bennet." She said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

The frown that had etched itself across Elizabeth's plump lips deepened considerably. "So is Mama, but I will not be persuaded." She said with a heavy sigh.

"No indeed!" Charlotte whispered, her voice dropping into an even more quiet hum, "Not when you have captured the notice of a man ten times his consequence!"

The pair of ladies glanced toward Mr. Darcy. There was no window in this room available for him to stare out of, and too much company to engage him to leave him to his usual solitary retreats. He had taken to staring at Elizabeth from a distance whenever they met, and as of late it had begun to irritate her.

The frown on Lizzy's face became very deep as she watched Mr. Darcy watch her. "What can he mean by staring at me!" She asked her friend with a cry, "I can not make it out! Does Mr. Darcy mean to frighten me with his contempt!"

Charlotte laughed heartily, but stifled the sound so that she did not draw attention to their conversation. All the guests were engaged in their own occupations, and she wanted to keep it that way. "Perhaps," she said, her tone teasing, "he has reevaluated his original estimation of your beauty!"

Lizzy giggled girlishly, "Do you mean that the gentleman has deemed my looks above tolerable?" She questioned. "Maybe with the confined and unvarying society here, I have finally become handsome enough to tempt him, since there are no better alternatives to be had!"

Charlotte grinned, but then a cloud came across her features, and she grew very serious. "You would be a fool to slight Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth. I know that Mr. Wickham favors you now, but these are the attentions of an officer of no consequence, with a mind for amusement. He can mean nothing by it."

Lizzy became very serious as well. "I am not a simpleton Charlotte!" She exclaimed, annoyed. "I know full well what Mr. Wickham's situation is, and mine as well. I perfectly understand that our relationship can never move beyond the point of friendly acquaintances."

"I would have you see less of him," Charlotte replied, grasping her young friend's hand, "to guard your heart."

"My heart is well protected," Lizzy said, smiling warmly, "you know that the armor I have guarded it with is impenetrable, Charlotte." She added fondly.

"Practicality and good-sense is a very good shield against the first reaches of romance, but do take care, Lizzy." Miss Lucas advised.

"I am taking very good care, indeed. And that is why poor Mr. Collins will never take me as a wife. A lesser woman would be unable to help her swoon at his talk of the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but I am determined to be obstinate!"

This time the ladies could not help their boisterous laughter. It rang out and filled the room with a gentle melodious warmth. Lizzy looked toward Mr. Darcy once more, and for a moment thought she saw a brief smile flash across his face. When their eyes met, she looked away, her face flushing with embarrassment and anger.

"Even still Charlotte," Lizzy began, her voice lowering to a whisper once more, "When I think of how mistreated Wickham has been at Mr. Darcy's hand, it makes my very blood boil!"

"Take care, my dear." Her friend replied, "We have only heard one side of the story. We can not know all of the particulars at present."

Just then, Mr. Collins was suddenly upon them, his face red from the party spirits, as well as the heat of the room. "My fair cousin!" He exclaimed, addressing Elizabeth and holding her punch glass toward her, "I have acquired your libations with all due haste! I was delayed several times upon my return; I hope that I was able to procure your beverage with enough speed!"

"Yes, of course. Thank you." Lizzy responded, all disinterested civility.

Charlotte began to engage Mr. Collins in some polite discourse while Eliza sipped her punch. Not listening to her words, she was content to observe this man who would mindlessly pay court to her. As she watched beads of perspiration trickle down the parson's shining red face, a wave of revulsion hit Elizabeth so hard that she felt the need to excuse herself. Begging their leave and dropping into a quick curtsy before Mr. Collins realized what had occurred; Elizabeth took quick, purposeful strides to quit the room.

Hearing an indecent shriek from her youngest sister, where the makeshift dance floor had been arranged, Elizabeth changed direction to check Lydia, knowing that her mother would not. As she moved toward the floor, she found herself in front of Mr. Darcy, and Charlotte's father, Sir William Lucas.

She was being presented to Mr. Darcy as a desirable partner for a dance, though she pleaded with him to excuse her. A flush had full blossomed on her face, one of sheer mortification. Though all the people of Meryton meant well, in that moment, Elizabeth was very sure how they all appeared in Mr. Darcy's eyes. She waited for the moment when he turned from them and crossed to the other side of the room with little more than a withering look. She waited, and the moment did not come. Instead, his dour, (although handsome) face looked upon hers, and the lips formed words she had never expected to hear from that gentleman.

"I would be honored if you would dance with me, Miss Bennet." Darcy said, his face as stoic and severe as ever.

With his words, Elizabeth felt as if the breath had been taken from her in one fell blow. She could not bring herself to speak for a moment, but her hazel eyes met Darcy's soulful brown, and that was dance enough for her. Though his lips were a thin, expressionless line of pink slashed against a face as pale and unmoving as marble, his eyes were full of fire and life. This time, she could not bring herself to tear hers away.

Thankfully, Sir William, a gregarious, jolly, and verbose gentleman, filled their silence with his good humor. "There now, Miss Eliza!" He cried with a laugh, his pink cheeks pushed up to his eyes by his wide smile, "What an offer! You see that Mr. Darcy will dance, though he normally dislikes the amusement so! But who can blame him for giving into the inducement, when such beauty is before him!" He looked knowingly toward the wealthy gentleman, who stared at the young lady with intensity, "Eh, Darcy?" He added with a merry chuckle.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Elizabeth's mind formed words, and her mouth was able to speak them for her. "Mr. Darcy is all politeness." She said, addressing the host of the party, finally pulling her eyes from the gentleman-in-question.

"Indeed he is, indeed he is!" Sir William cried, giving Darcy a lusty to clap on the back.

Darcy was about to speak again, but Elizabeth dropped into a quick curtsey, her eyes now downcast. "Pray you would excuse me." She murmured, turning away before the pair could make a reply.

He stared after her, not hearing Sir. William's words as he spoke. He watched as she rejoined Miss Lucas and her odious cousin, her face almost as red as the wall paper, her dark hair glistening in the candlelight. Sir William quit him, and he felt Caroline Bingley, ever on the hunt, slink up behind him.

"I can imagine how your mind is engaged at present." She said, her voice dripping into a slow seductive drawl.

Darcy stiffened at the sound of her voice, but decided to weather the battle instead of retreating. "I do not believe so." He said evenly, wondering where exactly she would take this dialogue.

"Oh, yes I can." She replied, taking a daring step toward him, so that he could feel the heat radiate off of her body. "You are imagining how insupportable it would be to spend many evenings in such tedious company." She whispered, turning her ordinary statement into a well-practiced caress.

Darcy smirked, his thoughts far from that subject, indeed. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of agreeing with her, simply to make her go away, but as a gentleman, could not bring himself to lie. "Indeed you are mistaken." He finally said, "My mind is more agreeably engaged."

"Oh?" Caroline whispered, her throaty voice filling with anticipation.

"I am mediating on the pleasures that a pair of fine eyes in face of a pretty woman can bring."

Caroline flushed, feeling a small thrill of accomplishment inside. "And might one ask," She whispered, her emotions standing on the precipice between bliss and agony, "who's the eyes that inspire these reflections?" Her body froze, hovering behind his, confident in her skills of seduction.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet's." Darcy finally answered, his tone as matter-of-fact as possible.

With his words, Caroline physically recoiled, her lips twisting from a seductive smile into an angry scowl. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet's?" She repeated, questioningly, "I am all astonishment."

A moment passed in which neither spoke. Moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with the object of her conquest, Caroline's eyes drifted toward where Mrs. Bennet gossiped loudly with the other matrons of the room. "Pray tell," She said, her voice laced full of her acid wit, "when am I to wish you joy?" Darcy laughed aloud, causing several people standing near to glance toward him in alarm. Something inside told him he would rue the day that he ever mentioned Miss Elizabeth Bennet's name to his determined suitor.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth stood with her friend while her cousin went on about the grandeurs of Rosings Park. While She was sure that it was a very fine estate, she wondered that any person could go on at length about any one piece of property so frequently, and for such long intervals. The monotony of his conversation was finally broken when Mrs. Alcott approached them, all smiles and good humor.

She was introduced to the parson with all the due course, as per the social niceties. After she had given her most polite curtsey and he a clumsy bow, he grasped the lady's hand crying, "But you are not Mrs. Eleanor Alcott, Mr. Bingley's sister, married to Admiral John Alcott, son of Sir James Alcott of Lincolnshire!"

"Indeed I am sir," She replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she freed her hand from his grasp.

"This is most fortuitous indeed!" Mr. Collins cried, "I am most pleased! I have the very good fortune to tell you, that your cousin, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was in the most excellent of health when I last saw her, some seventeen days ago!"

"How wonderful, Mr. Collins, thank you!" Eleanor exclaimed, laughing inwardly. Her eyes met Miss Elizabeth's, and then she added in a pleading tone. "Oh Mr. Collins, I do hate to trouble you…"

"How can I be of service to the relation of my most esteemed patroness? I will be glad to be of help in any fashion, as long as my fair cousin will consent to release me!" The clergyman immediately interjected into her speech.

"My goodness, I am quite out of punch, as you see." Eleanor said demurely, indicting her empty glass, "Could you be so good as to fetch me some more?"

"With haste, I assure you!" Mr. Collins cried eagerly, his round, red face, shining as bright as a full moon, "As long as you will allow me to part from your side, my dear, sweet, cousin Elizabeth."

Elizabeth felt another wave of revulsion hit her, and wanted nothing more than to flee her cousin's company. Instead of running away, she smiled politely and said, "With all my heart, sir." Knowing that the irony of her statement would be wasted on such a man.

Bowing low, Mr. Collins departed from the ladies once again, and Elizabeth felt as though she had never been so happy to see a man's back in all her life. Eleanor turned to her newest friends with a faint smile. "I am sorry to disturb you ladies," She began hesitantly, but I have come to inquire about the nature of your relationship with Mr. Collins, Miss Elizabeth."

Lizzy frowned, and Charlotte's eyes flashed. "He is my cousin," She told her, omitting several facts, "and a guest in Longbourne, at present, nothing more."

Eleanor paused for a moment, unsure if she should continue down the path she had set herself upon. "Pray forgive me for being so forward," she said, apprehensive, "but from my observations, it appears as though your cousin Mr. Collins means to court you, and you are unreceptive to his suit."

Lizzy and Charlotte both froze, unsure of how they should proceed in this intimate of a conversation with a woman who they had only known for a brief while. Seeing their caution, Eleanor continued, saying, "I do not question you for my own amusement, Miss Bennet. I have come to you because I have observed your behavior with Mr. Collins, and he seems to be a man who is not easily discouraged." There was another brief pause, and she added, "I may have some advice for you on how to be rid of him for good."

Lizzy took a step toward her new confidante, full of eager interest. All her means of discouraging Mr. Collins had so far been useless. She was ready for any kind of advice in order to prevent him from proposing. "Please, go on." She encouraged.

Eleanor lowered her voice and pulled Lizzy and Charlotte further away from the throngs of people. "If you truly mean to dissuade Mr. Collins," Eleanor said with finality, "you must flatter him."

Charlotte laughed at Lizzy's dumbfounded expression. "Flatter him?" She asked, incredulous.

"Indeed!" Eleanor cried, perfectly serious. "A man of such vanity will never be able to accept a rejection in which you tell him you are unequal to becoming his wife, I know from personal experience with the matter. When Mr. Collins makes a declaration, tell him that you must reject him…because you know of a young lady that holds him very dear to her heart!"

"But there is no such young lady that I know of," Lizzy thoughtfully replied, ruminating on the subject.

"Precisely!" Eleanor said, glancing toward the refreshments. "He comes now, but let me say this. Flattery will appeal to a man's ego. If you deny him outright, he will believe you are attempting to toy with his emotions. Trust me on this!"

Elizabeth and Charlotte both looked toward Mr. Collins as he approached from across the room, punch in hand. Impulsively, Lizzy asked, "Mrs. Alcott, how well do you know Mr. Darcy?"

"Lizzy!" Charlotte cried with a warning, not sure how far they could trust their new-found friendship.

Eleanor was intrigued by the inquiry, and a quizzical brow raised. "Near ten years now, he is second cousin to my husband, and the best friend of my brother."

Seeing that Mr. Collins had hastened his steps, her voice dropped into a frantic whisper. "And how well do you know his character?" She asked, spitting the words out so quietly and so quickly that Eleanor could scarcely make them out.

Eleanor opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly Mr. Collins was before them, punch in hand. All the women seemed annoyed at his untimely arrival, although he did not seem to notice it. Graciously accepting the punch he had retrieved for her, Eleanor sipped her drink and pondered the latest development.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5: THE BALL**

November, Darcy reflected, staring out of his usual window, was a truly horrid month in terms of the weather. One moment the sun was shining, birds chirped, and thoughts of winter were far from one's mind, and the next piercing cold and howling winds ravaged the countryside. Charles' had decided to give a ball at Netherfield, and he was expected to not only attend, but to dance with several young ladies.

Caroline, Louisa, and Eleanor were all obvious choices when it came to partners. He knew to be careful, and take great pains that he did not find himself facing Caroline during the opening number, or the supper set. He did not want to give her any kind of idea of expectation from him. Despite his best intentions, the thought of taking Elizabeth Bennet to the floor drifted in and out of his mind of his own accord. He knew that dancing with the young lady would be perfectly acceptable, but it was where his thoughts drifted from the dance that was disturbing. To have such thoughts for a woman he barely knew! He did not care how fine her eyes were, creamy brown that sparkled with flecks of green and gold in the sunlight; nor did he care how sharp and fine her wit, such notions were insupportable with a country-nothing like her.

Since their last meeting at Lucas Lodge, Darcy had given Elizabeth Bennet a great deal of thought. He had come to several conclusions about the young lady. While he could not deny that she intrigued him, that he enjoyed her sense of humor and sought out witty exchanges with her whenever the chance was available, he knew that it could never be more than that. The Admiral had advised him to follow his heart, and that advise had been sound in a sense, but not when it came to her. He imagined Elizabeth as the mistress of Pemberly; imagined her weighed down by the many responsibilities of running an estate of such size, he pictured her in the society of his relatives, and saw the way their haughty airs belittled her. No, he could not have Elizabeth Bennet, though he felt more drawn to her day by day. As his wife, her spark would burn out, and all the life and joy and passion in her eyes would be lost forever. She needed to be in a place where she was care-free, and in society she was appreciated and valued.

It helped, he imagined, that she was so poor and her nearest relations so lacking in propriety. Though Darcy had never been in love before, and was not sure if that was the emotion he felt toward Miss Bennet, he knew that if her mother was an intelligent, genteel, well-mannered woman, and her silly sisters were kept in check, he would be in danger of falling in very deep, indeed.

Directly after the ball, Charles' was to London for a short while in order to conclude some business with his realtor. It occurred to Darcy that though he despised the city, with all the eager Mamas and their silly daughters on the hunt for his fortune, he needed the reprieve from Hertfordshire society. The only way to forget Elizabeth Bennet was to leave her, before he grew too attached. He barely knew her after all. He knew the lines of her face, the bounce of her step, the sound of her voice, and the way a sunny morning light filtering through a thicket of trees made her glow like she was forest fairy who had wandered into a mortal realm, but he knew little else. If he left now, he could still forget her, and all would be well.

**o0o0o0o**

The next day was spent in a flurry at Netherfield, servants dashing in and out of rooms, polishing and scrubbing, the cooks working as fast as they could, dicing, slicing, stirring and mixing anything that happened to be sent their way. Caroline, although normally an efficient and diligent housekeeper, was nowhere to be found. There were many things that needed her approval, and servants wandered the estate looking for the lady in charge.

Although it was past noon already, Caroline was observing herself in the floor length mirror that hung on her light pink walls. She sat on a small chair in only her dressing gown, as her dressing maid gently brushed her long black curls.

"Black hair is not the most fashionable thing to have in the Town this season," she mused inwardly, observing her raven locks in the glass. Glistening white ones were what the newest girls seemed to posses. She sighed aloud, thinking of how many young girls must have used the latest science to achieve such a style. She heard that it was painful process, and the smell stayed for several days, but such is the price of beauty.

Her hand touched her cheek lightly, noting that her skin was pale as ivory, just as it should be. Bonnets were such dreadful, childish things, and she usually spent most of her time wearing large, fashionable hats when indoors, but they didn't do the trick when one wanted protection from the sun. She spent the majority of her days inside in order to protect her complexion, but a bonnet and a parasol did the trick when she absolutely had to be out doors.

She stood, and the maid took off her dressing gown with experienced fingers, saying absolutely nothing. She glanced over at the four brand new dresses laid out for her and lazily chose the red one. She knew that most people thought she would look stunning in any of them. They were all the latest fashion and highest quality material, and she always chose a cut that showed her figure off to best advantage. Although she was no longer a young debutante, she knew she was handsome, but the red was chosen because Darcy had shown a great appreciation for Elizabeth's figure when she wore a stupid little reddish-orange gown one evening at Lucas Lodge. He had also noted how well Eleanor looked not two days before, and she was wearing a gown not all that dissimilar from the one she had chosen.

"Eleanor," She sighed, thinking of her younger sister with annoyance, "Thank God the Admiral has quit Hertfordshire, now if only she could as well!"

Caroline had been living in a bliss all morning, temporarily forgetting her sister's presence. Though she loved her as was her sisterly duty, she found that more often than not, she could not stand her. Being twins, she was so like Charles, the tall frame, the gold curls, the easy smile. They were not dissimilar in temperament either, which frightened Caroline to the core. Eleanor had not married as well as they would have liked, and had brought Caroline's prospects into disadvantage. With Charles pursuing Jane Bennet, it was likely that he would follow in his sister's footsteps and lower her own prospects even further.

Cat-like green eyes stared at her from the glass; she had all the looks of her mother, and none of the father. She knew she would look well at the ball, but her eyes were nothing like Elizabeth Bennet's. She had no idea what Darcy found so very attractive in the stupid country girl, but if she could copy it, she would. Ever since his confession at Lucas Lodge, she had been watching both Eliza and Darcy carefully, to detect any sign of an understanding.

The only understanding that seemed to exist was between the young lady and her cousin, and with that thought, Caroline could not help but smirk. It had been recent knowledge that let her know that the Bennet estate was entailed away from the female line. Knowing this, as well as knowing how small each sister's dowry was, thanks to the mother, Caroline knew that one of the Bennet sisters would be forced to marry the ridiculous parson, should he make an offer. As far she could tell, Mr. Collins was enraptured with the same Bennet sister that had caught Darcy's notice, and spitefully, Caroline wished the pair joy in her mind.

**o0o0o0o**

The day of a ball always holds the air of excitement and anticipation for a Mama and one of her hopeful daughters, so in a house with five hopeful daughters, the anticipation and excitement is multiplied. Even the eldest two, usually more sensible about silly trivial things, such as an evenings entertainment, could not help but be excite. All the women in the house had great hopes for this ball at Netherfield.

Lydia planned on dancing every dance, and capturing the heart of every officer that might cross her path. There was a certain officer she had her hungry eyes set upon, but it seemed he likes brains more than beauty; Lizzy always got the good ones. Kitty couldn't help be excited at the prospect of standing up with Lt Denny, he was quite a nice man, tall, intelligent, and most importantly, dashingly handsome. He had asked her especially, and then added to Lydia as an afterthought, to be polite. He had even given her a small wink, just to let her know he only asked her sister to pay a compliment to her. She was happy to accept his hand for a dance, and hoped that perhaps, it may be more than one at that. Mary's dearest wish was to show off her musical talents, something she was want to do whenever a pianoforte was near. While her sisters spent much the day in the exchange of gossip merrily going about trying on different dresses and doing other things to prepare their looks for the ball, Mary was tied to her pianoforte, incessantly asking her parents and sisters which songs they liked best, and then ignoring all their advice and critic, having more respect for her own opinion than anyone in world's.

Elizabeth took special care in dressing herself that evening. Every wrinkle in her dress pressed out, her gloves spotless and soft. Her hair was arranged most becomingly, and decorated with pearls and flowers that coordinated with her dress perfectly. Her jewelry was sparse and delicate, and her cheeks glowed from excessive pinching and the happy beam that graced her pink lips. She was looking forward to this ball, and could only hope that Mr. Wickham would be there to escort her onto the dance floor, as he had promised. Thought she took Charlotte's warning very seriously to guard her heart, she could not help but enjoy Wickham's company above any other gentleman in her acquaintance.

Jane was the farthest thing from vain, but tonight she knew she looked radiant. Never before had she put so much thought and effort into her wardrobe, but it did show her to her very best advantage. She was hoping that one man would notice more than the others. She couldn't help but realize that she liked Mr. Bingley above all the other men she had ever known, and couldn't help thinking he liked her very much as well. Even when she told herself to stop thinking in fantasies, she could not help and indulge in a few this evening.

So morning passed into mid day and mid day swiftly turned into evening, and the Bennet family carriage was called for, and they were headed toward Netherfield. Carriages filled Netherfield circle, the drivers gathering around a small bon fire drinking warmed ale, their masters and mistresses talking and laughing as they entered into the great house itself. As they approached the drive to the house Mr. Collin's found himself inclined to speak, not surprising any one that traveled in the carriage with him.

"Her Lady ship deeply disapproves of allowing servants any kind of alcohol, or even a fire such as the one you see there. She believes, and I am inclined to agree, that servants always take in more alcohol than they should, and she believes that any master that allows his servant to do thus is the very worst kind, and should not be allowed to have servants under his charge. I am beginning to seriously regret accepting this invitation, especially after my fair cousin's kind intervention, except that if I should turn round, and thus depart, I would be neglecting each of my fair cousins their own dance." He was simpering quite nicely for a man who obviously thought he was the better of everyone that rode in the carriage with him, and Lizzy found she wanted to slap the smirk off his lips, a most uncharitable thought indeed.

"Well Mr. Collins, if you should change your mind and decide that you wish to return back to Longbourne and retire for the evening, I will not hesitate to be of service in any way I can. If the carriage can not be had you can always walk you know, Lizzy has walked to Netherfield many times by herself." Mr. Bennet said in dry tones.

"Has she?" asked Mr. Collins, "Has she indeed? Then I must beg you, my fair cousin," he said grasping her hand, "to stop. It must be most unhealthy, bringing an unhealthy tan upon your skin fair cousin. Please I beg of you dear cousin, stop this most unflattering behavior."

Elizabeth felt a disgusted chill tingle down her spine, "Look at that," she said happily, ignoring her erstwhile suitor, "We have arrived." As soon as the carriage came to a stop, Lizzy quickly climbed out and up the steps, before Mr. Collins had a chance to offer her his arm. Jane quickly caught up with her sister and they entered together, where Mr. Bingley was very quick to offer both women an arm to escort them into the ballroom.

A rather lengthy conversation was passed between the sisters in their eyes as they were lead in, Elizabeth clearly begging Jane not leave her to the mercy of Mr. Collins. Mr. Bingley turned and spoke to Jane and the conversation between the sisters ended.

Somewhat annoyed, yet happy for her sister, Elizabeth broke off of Mr. Bingley's arm and greeted a few friends before turning to her very best, a Miss Charlotte Lucas. Much of the time the ladies had alone was spent in serious discussion, a rare occasion for the two rather mischievous young woman, but Elizabeth had much to acquaint her friend with. Mr. Wickham's story had gained new levels and the amount of the hatred she felt for Mr. Darcy had grown exponentially since they last met. They were only just getting engrossed with their discussion when Eleanor Alcott decided to come up to them.

"Good evening Miss Lucas, Miss Bennet. You were rather brief at the little meet and greet this evening." She said smiling.

Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh, "For a man whose wit unfortunately runs rather slowly, Mr. Collins is rather quick on his feet."

"Lizzy!" reprimanded Charlotte.

Eleanor simply laughed, it was good to laugh when one was feeling as low as she did. "A sentiment I truly understand Miss Bennet. I remember before I was married to Joh-the Admiral, I actually ran away from a sea side pick-nick because a rather incessant suitor."

All three young women smiled at one another, their eyes expressing the humor that their mouths dared not voice. After a short while, Charlotte said, "Mrs. Alcott, Elizabeth refuses to acknowledge me on this matter, but on several occasions I have found Mr. Darcy to be keen on staring at her. Neither of us can seem to determine why this might be. Perhaps in knowing him better, you might be able to enlighten us as to why he is so enraptured with my friend?"

It was now Elizabeth's turn to reprimand, her face flushing with embarrassment and anger.

Eleanor glanced toward her friend, not surprised to find that he was indeed staring at Miss Bennet. "I believe Mr. Darcy is craving a dance with you, Miss Bennet, but is unsure as to how to ask you for your hand when you are surrounded by a hoard of gossiping woman." Turning to Charlotte, Eleanor added with a mischievous wink, "Come Miss Lucas, to the punch bowl, so that we may give poor Mr. Darcy a chance at procuring a space on Miss Elizabeth's dance card!" Eleanor laughed.

"No indeed!" Elizabeth cried, her blush turning crimson, "I have no desire to stand up with Mr. Darcy. I am afraid I am not very fond of the gentleman, and he feels likewise. We are not similar in any way."

Taking Charlotte's arm and leading her away from Elizabeth's side, Eleanor tossed her head over her shoulder and said with finality, "Miss Elizabeth, it is a truth universally acknowledged that the best of friends and the worst of enemies make the most passionate couples!"

Seeing Elizabeth quite alone, Darcy decided to take his opportunity to strike while the iron was hot. With purposeful strides, he made his way toward her, determined to have her hand in a dance once and for all. At the Assembly, he refused to stand up with any woman he was not particularly acquainted with, and at Lucas Lodge she had refused to stand up with _him. _He was to London with Charles on the morrow, and had begun to be very certain that he would not be returning to Netherfield. If Elizabeth Bennet was just a pair of fine eyes attached to a light, pleasing figure, he could stay for in the county his lifetime, and be immune to her. But what drew him in and kept him was not the sparkle of their color, but the intelligence and the humor that so clearly and boldly shone out of each orb. To that, he could not be immune, but he knew that he could make no serious commitment to a girl of so little means, few connections, and vulgar relations. He would have to make due with one dance, and be done with her for good, damn the Admiral's advice, and the urgent beating of his own heart.

Forcing something like a smile on his face, he made his way toward her, meeting her eyes and rooting her to the spot. Elizabeth had been tempted to flee, to find conversation with another one of her acquittance, but when she lifted her face and saw his deep eyes staring at her with such intensity, she found that she could not remember how to breathe, let alone how to move. Time seemed to slow all around her as he made his approach, until a lifetime had passed between them. Finally he stood before her, and with a bow, he spoke.

"Good evening, Miss Bennet." He said stiffly, his resolution of leaving breaking just by meeting her eyes.

"Good evening, Mr. Darcy. Are you well?" Elizabeth replied, willing herself to speak, furious that his presence was always so daunting for her.

"I am very well Miss Bennet." He answered, trying to memorize her face as she stood before him.

There was a pause and Lizzy frowned slightly, unsure of why Darcy would make his way toward her if he did not mean to ask her to dance. Just when she thought she could curtsy and make her escape, he finally roused the courage to speak saying, "If you are not otherwise engaged, Miss Bennet, I would be honored to have you stand up with me for the first dance."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed in annoyance. The man had not asked her to dance by any stretch of the imagination! She presumed that to him, she was supposed to consider it a compliment that _he_ would feel honored to have her by _his_ side, but he had simply supposed that her answer had to be yes. Willing herself to teach him a lesson, Lizzy latched onto the first idea that came to her head.

"I do apologize Mr. Darcy." She said with sudden inspiration, not sounding sorry at all, "But I am already engaged for the first set with Mr. Collins."

For a moment, Darcy seemed to lose his nerve. Then his cordial expression turned cold, and squaring his shoulders he asked, "Will you be free the second set?"

Lizzy was astounded by his nerve. Any goodwill she had had toward Mr. Darcy was now completely gone. She had thought at one point that perhaps he was shy and retiring, despite all he had to recommend him, or perhaps he was just an odd man. But his incorrigible rudeness and ridiculous sense of entitlement supported everything she had learned of his character from Mr. Wickham. Lizzy wanted to slap him, but instead raised a solitary brow.

"I will be free the third dance, Mr. Darcy, but after a full set, I would have to beg exhaustion." She said, in a sarcastic display of a demure nature.

He paused again unable to read her emotions from underneath what he perceived to be her playful airs, "I am afraid that leaves you no excuse to get out of the dinner-set, Miss Bennet." He finally stated, his haughty features stoic.

Lizzy gasped, astonished that he would call her on her bluff so openly, "I was not looking for excuses," she said with a cry, defending herself vehemently against an attack that was very on point.

He couldn't help the smirk that wormed its way onto his lips. "Then the dinner-set is mine, Miss Bennet?"

Lizzy was tempted to scowl, but instead smiled as sweetly as she could, just to spite him. "It appears that way, Mr. Darcy." She replied, inwardly seething.

"I await it with bated breath." Darcy said, his tone and his expression unchanging from his unmoving façade.

With a bow, he was gone, and Elizabeth was very close to saying aloud, "May you suffocate on it!" to his retreating back. Instead she went in search of Mr. Collins, cursing herself for using his invitation as an escape from Darcy's. What had she been thinking?

**o0o0o0o**

Seeing Eleanor alone near the refreshments, Darcy made his way toward her, in order to secure his friend for a set. Since her husband was absent from the company, he felt it was his duty to ensure that his relation was to have a good of a time at the ball as possible. Teasingly, Eleanor accepted his invitation, and they made their way to the floor with good humor.

As they danced, the pair conversed, and many of the onlookers from Meryton were shocked to see that the formidable Mr. Darcy was capable of producing a full blown smile. Eleanor enjoyed toying with her husband's cousin and engaging him in witty repartee, but after a few measures of music, she found herself burning to ask him one particular question:

"You asked her to dance?" She whispered excitedly, as they crossed one another in time to the music.

"I do not know of whom you are speaking." Darcy replied dryly, "I have requested the hand of many young ladies for a dance this evening."

"Women of the Bingley persuasion do not count, sir!" Eleanor cried, as he took her gloved hand and spun her around him, "I am referring to one, Miss Elizabeth Bennet!"

Darcy's eyes flashed at the name. They were parted for a moment by the steps of the song, but when they were rejoined, she look toward him expectantly. "Yes." He finally admitted, his voice taking on a note of steel.

Eleanor simply smiled, "What dance has she promised you?"

"The dinner-set." Darcy stated, his voice devoid of all emotion.

Eleanor grinned, and two thoughts struck Darcy simultaneously at the sight of her smile. The first was just how much she resembled her twin brother. Her features were more delicate and feminine, but there could be no denying that she was a Bingley, through and through. The second was that he recognized the mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and he was beginning to be very worried. He had known Eleanor almost ten years, and he knew that look meant that she was scheming, and suddenly, he grew very apprehensive for the evening to come.

Darcy had no idea what a mistake he had made.

**o0o0o0o**

When the music stuck its first chord, Darcy found himself to be more nervous than he had could ever recall being before. The woman who stood before him had an ethereal, woodsy, beauty that ensnared him, but her personality was very earth bound. His mind raced with a million things to say to her, yet his lips formed none, and his voice failed him and spoke none aloud. He merely stared at her, his face as impassive as ever, and tried to decipher her expression. Her hazel eyes sparkled in the candlelight, but he knew full well that they did not sparkle with warmth and good humor toward him, the way they shone toward those she loved and admired. With him those deep eyes held an entirely different expression, and he was at a loss as to what it could mean.

The music was a foreign piece, both exotic and very new to the people of Meryton. Subtly glancing toward the other couples on the floor, Darcy could tell that there were some among their number who had never danced this piece before, but he was pleased to see that Elizabeth seemed to have no apprehension whatsoever. It was a passionate song, and there had been some controversy about the dance when it had first made it's way into English ballrooms. That he should be partnered with Elizabeth while it played seemed too contrived for him, and he wondered if this was somehow Eleanor's doing.

He bowed low to his partner, who curtsied two beats later. He kissed her hand, as the other gentlemen did. Gloved though it might be, he felt tingles of electricity flow through his lips and race through his body at the contact, and his expression hardened. After this night, he would never see her again. She had to be forgotten.

The dance began very slowly and started to pick up pace. Many movements passed without any words between them until Elizabeth decided to speak, unable to bear the silence, and the intense scrutiny of his deep, chocolate eyes.

"How do you like Hertfordshire Mr. Darcy?" She asked, forcing her voice to be polite and pleasant.

Darcy's severity did not falter. Ignoring her question, he asked, "Is it a rule for you to speak when you are dancing?"

"Well," replied Elizabeth with a saucy lilt to her tone, "There must be some conversation between us. It would look rather odd, the two of us dancing together without even a 'you look well' exchanged between us."

Darcy smirked as he lead her across the floor. "If I told you that you look remarkably well this evening would you be willing to consider it an apology for my silence?" He asked, raising a brow in a sardonic mockery of her usual expression.

"No." Elizabeth said tartly, meeting his gaze with her own, "The fact that you say _remarkably_ well leads me to believe you find it astonishing that I can present myself thusly at all."

"You know that is not true." He said with a hint of a smile, "You take great delight in expressing opinions that are not your own."

Elizabeth could not help her astonishment at his conversation. Mr. Darcy was the most perplexing man she had ever encountered. One moment she was overcome with anger toward him and his superior nature, and the next she stood across him on the dance floor, and he almost teased her! Just when she was sure that she had him figured out, he surprised her.

The dance pulled them away from one another for a time, and they were rejoined, Darcy spoke, saying, "What think you of books?"

Elizabeth laughed at his attempt at conversation. "Please do not ask me of books Mr. Darcy! I find my head is filled with nothing but the present at a ball, and I believe that you and I have probably never read the same titles and if we have, our opinions on them would be entirely different, I am sure."

Darcy frowned, unsure of what he could say. Knowing that he was to leave Hertfordshire, and that he did not intend to return, he was determined to relish this last time with her. Bitterly, he acknowledge to himself that he would savor the feeling of her hand on his own for the rest of his life. Part of himself wondered why he would leave when he felt such an attraction, but the logical side knew the answers, and always won the argument.

"I believe you and I are not as different as you imagine." He said, his eyes boring into her own.

Once again they were pulled away from one another, facing new partners. Elizabeth's mind was whirling at an attempt to figure him out. When they were reunited she spoke, "You are quite right," she said with a mocking air, "we are both of a taciturn nature, unwilling to speak unless we will say something that amazes the entire room."

"This is not a very accurate depiction of your character, as I know it." He coolly replied.

Elizabeth smiled artlessly. " I am never in the mood for a debate when I am dancing, Mr. Darcy." She said with a raised brow and amused twinkle in her hazel eyes.

There was a pause in the conversation for a long moment as the music called for them to part for the last time. "Perhaps we should be silent, Miss Bennet." Darcy said when they came together, his voice incredibly cold.

As the music died, and the dancers clapped, Elizabeth said nothing. Keeping her face neutral, she watched with a childish delight as his expression became more and more cold. Since he had arrived in the county, the man had done nothing but vex her. He had insulted her without knowing her, had mocked her, teased her, and put all of his time and energy into watching her every movement like a hawk circling his prey. She was shocked that he had asked her to dance, and could not make out his motive. At the very least, it was satisfying to know that she could match her wit against his and emerge victorious.

Unfortunately, she had given her consent to the dinner-set, and was now obligated to dine with the odious man. Pulling herself to her full height, Elizabeth tried to ignore the heat of his body standing next to her as he lead her from the floor. With her hand on his arm, Elizabeth could tell that it was well muscled and firm. He was a handsome man, to be sure, if only he had not ruined his well favored appearance by being the most proud, disagreeable person in the whole of the country!

Becoming lost in her thoughts, Elizabeth ignored the conversations around her and as her dance partner lead her to her seat at the table. Bingley had approached them, her sister on his arm, and the two gentlemen were laughing good naturedly. Lizzy watched Mr. Darcy's face as he laughed, and imagined what people would think of him if he did so more often, for his entire face changed in character. He had a truly beautiful smile. Each tooth was in its proper place, and dimples framed the corners of well formed lips. The sound of his laugh was a deep, pleasant timbre, and staring at him as he conversed, Lizzy suddenly forgot why she hated him so passionately.

They were seated to dine, and Lizzy was glad to see that Jane and Bingley were dining together as well. With Jane at her table, she imagined that the meal would not be quite so odious. She wondered what the people of Meryton were saying of her for her actions this evening. She had opened the ball with one gentleman, and taken the dinner set with another. Would they all be scandalized by her shocking behavior? Hearing Lydia laugh across the room, it occurred that in comparison to her younger sisters, nothing she could do would ever be shocking to them. No one had even noticed her behavior when Lydia Bennet was present in the company.

Thankfully, with others about, Lizzy was not forced to find more conversation with Mr. Darcy. Caroline Bingley, who had been without a partner for the set, dined with her brother and the object of her affections, and took to conversation a way few others did. Each remark she made was a barbed insult toward the Bennet family, and Elizabeth matched her witticisms tit for tat.

Growing more and more frustrated throughout the first course, Caroline finally decided to make her attack personal. "So, Miss Eliza," she said with false merriment, "I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham."

Charles glanced toward his sister sharply, a very dark frown on his face. Darcy's face had become the angriest Elizabeth had ever seen it, and looking toward her sister's concerned expression with a small, apologetic smile, she cordially replied saying, "From what I know of him, I like him, yes."

"I beg of you, Eliza." Caroline simpered, her cat-like eyes dancing in their sockets, "Do not give credit to all of his claims. I do not know the particulars, but it was Darcy who was done a great wrong by him not the other way around."

Elizabeth was shocked by Caroline's outburst, in fact, the entire table was. That she would speak so plainly of a subject that was so greatly distressing to Darcy directly in front of the gentleman disturbed them. "Really, is that so?" Elizabeth finally asked, trying to keep her tone light. She felt like such a fool. How could she have forgotten about Mr. Wickham and his story, even momentarily? Mr. Darcy's laughter must have disorientated her worse than she had initially perceived. She had forgotten the most important facet of her opinion of him!

"I am afraid it is all too true Miss Eliza. I am sorry to tell you of your favorite's deceit, but considering his descent, one could not have expected much better. I suppose in all of his tale-telling he did not mention that he is only the son of old Wickham, Mr. Darcy's steward?" Caroline inquired, her tone dripping in a honey coated layer of false sincerity.

Feeling uncomfortable, Bingley attempted to change the subject. "We have had some very fine weather for shooting these past two weeks!" He said, attempting to draw them into a new topic.

With Miss Bingley's speech, it occurred to Lizzy that Caroline was only trying to belittle her with that one fact she knew of Wickham, to make Lizzy's interest in the man seem ridiculous and vulgar. She was unsure of why Caroline had taken such an intense disliking to her, but did not question it too thoroughly. She wondered briefly if it was simply her country manners that vexed her, or if she considered Elizabeth a rival in her deluded pursuit of Mr. Darcy. Rising to the challenge presented before her, she smiled politely and said, "Mr. Wickham's deceit seems to be nothing more than his descent in your eyes. Until I possess further knowledge on the subject I am afraid I will simply have to believe Mr. Wickham's side of the tale. As for the fact that he is only the son of Mr. Darcy's steward; He informed me of that himself." Elizabeth said with firm serenity.

Caroline's mouth turned into a thin scowl. "Forgive the intrusion, Eliza." She said with bitterness, "It was kindly meant."

"I am sure it was." Elizabeth replied, her eyes sparkling.

As the third course was upon them, Charles redirected the conversation, with the help of the lovely Miss Bennet. Darcy had not spoken in some time, and he worried what his friend must be thinking in that moment. He did his best to be a pleasing, diverting host, and could only hope that the subject could be dropped entirely. Looking toward his very somber friend, he had a feeling that he would not let it go easily. Like Caroline, Charles knew only that Wickham was the son of Mr. Darcy's late steward, and they had been played together as boys, only to have a very bad falling out after the death of Darcy's father. Frowning and distracted, Charles managed to keep his guests off of the topic of George Wickham until dessert.

Mr. Darcy finally decided that he could no longer maintain his silence. He knew that he had to say something on the subject, or his rage would burn within him with no release. Not even inclining his head toward where Elizabeth sat on his side, Darcy said with gravity, "Mr. Wickham has the happy capabilities of being able to make friends wherever he goes, but whether he is equally capable of keeping them is a different story entirely, Miss Bennet."

Lizzy was startled by the sound of his voice, as he had been silent for so long. She chose her words carefully. "It is a pity he has lost your friendship in way he is likely to suffer from for the rest of his life." She said, trying to remain lighthearted, but with some resentment crawling its way into her voice.

Staring straight ahead, Darcy said with a violent undercurrent in his well spoken voice, "My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."

Charles and Jane look toward one another, equally distressed. "Lizzy," Jane said with some vehemence, "I have heard a most amusing story from Charlotte Lucas the other day-"

Elizabeth cut her sister off with an apologetic glance. "We all have flaws, Mr. Darcy. Would you say that yours is a proud, resentful temperament?"

He finally faced her, and his dark eyes were positively black with suppressed anger. "Perhaps yours is a propensity to willfully misunderstand others."

Lizzy laughed, although there was no humor in the sound. "Mr. Darcy," She said, trying her hardest to remain composed, "You have told me that your good opinion, once lost, is lost forever. I hope you are very careful then, in weighing and measuring your judgment of others."

"I am very careful indeed." He responded in an icy hiss.

"And you would never give into moments of petty jealousy, vanity, or pride, when making your assessments of others?" She asked with a quizzical brow.

"Miss Eliza," Caroline cut in, seeing her chance to defend the hopeful companion of her future life, "Mr. Darcy is a man without fault."

"Indeed," Elizabeth said, making it clear that she did not agree, "a man without fault?"

"That is not possible for anyone," Darcy said with solemnity, "no matter how hard one may try. Vanity and jealousy are flaws, undoubtedly. But where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation." He paused for a moment, to collect his thoughts and choose his words, and then continued saying, "I know not under what falsehood Mr. Wickham has gained your sympathy, Miss Bennet. I can assure you, however, that he is not worth anyone's pity or any young lady's good opinion."

Steeling herself against him, Elizabeth calmly stated, "Mr. Wickham has informed me that you denied him of his inheritance and reduced him to his present state of poverty. Is this a falsehood?"

Charles, Caroline, and Jane all looked toward Darcy with wide, disbelieving eyes. Wincing, her replied. "That is no falsehood, but several facts have been omitted from the tale, and as they are my personal business, I will not divulge them to you."

"If you have verified the gentleman's claims and refused to explain your side thoroughly, I will have to judge the story as I ever did." Elizabeth replied, her hazel eyes a light with anger.

There was a long tense pause amongst their party. Thankfully, with so many people in attendance, the bustle of noise of the happy party-goers made their quiet battle impossible to make out in the din of the room. Finally, Darcy spoke, and his body turned full in his chair so that he faced her. Their eyes locked on one another, and neither was able to breathe properly as they became lost in each other. "Perhaps," Darcy said, with a twisted, self-mocking smile, "if I had courted you, if I had paid you all the lovely compliments that Wickham is sure to, if I had made love to you as he will, or is, you would now believe my side of the tale rather than his. If I had made my attempt to stroke your vanity, you would consider anything he says nothing more than a gross, scandalous lie."

"You are greatly misguided, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth said, feeling her eyes well with tears of pure frustration, "No amount of flattery on your part could ever dissuade me from my belief of your pride, arrogance, and selfish disdain for the feelings of others. Mr. Wickham may or may not be paying court to me at present, but if you were to address me as he is, I would feel only disgust. I have seen the way you treat the people here, and I also see how Mr. Wickham treats them. It is plain by your actions who the better man is."

Darcy leaned toward her, unsure if he wanted to grab her throat and ring her neck, or kiss her senselessly. "Did you expect me to rejoice at the vulgarity of the acquaintance I have made here? To enjoy the improprieties so frequently deployed by the society in Hertfordshire and laughed away as 'country manners'? Shall I congratulate myself on becoming intimate with people who's situations in life as so decidedly below my own? I have behaved as I deemed fit, as any man in such a position would deem fit in his surroundings, and I hardly believe that my behavior has been such as to warrant your deplorable incivility!"

Elizabeth's eyes flashed, and she felt an anger roll through her with a force she had never felt before. "No Mr. Darcy, you are rather mistaken." She spoke, her loathing toward him evident in every nuance of her tone, "The people of Hertfordshire may live lower than your normal social sphere, but your behavior gives me every right to the incivility I present you with. In your time here, I have not seen the conduct of a gentleman from you at any point in time. I have seen pride, arrogance, and condescension; I have seen rudeness and oddity, but I have not once witnessed you behave yourself in a conduct suited to your station in life. It is Mr. Wickham's display of gentility, in spite of his situation, that leads me to believe him, not his flattery! Perhaps if you had presented yourself in a more gentleman-like manner, I would give Mr. Wickham's story less credibility. However, not only have you confirmed his story to be true, your behavior this evening only confirms the worst of what I have expected from you!"

Darcy went ashen at her words, his dark eyes widening in surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but Charles interrupted, "Enough!" He cried angrily, his face scarlet, "I know that you both have been taught better behavior than this! Darcy, apologize to Miss Elizabeth this instant!"

The gentleman stood, his posture perfect, his face stoic. Only his eyes betrayed the depth of his emotion, but the meaning was unfathomable to Elizabeth. He stepped away from the table, and bowed low to his host. "Charles, I apologize for losing my temper thusly, it was unpardonably rude of me. To prevent another display, I feel it is best that I retire for the evening." Turning to face Elizabeth, he said in clipped, yet contrite, words, "I have heard quite enough to comprehend your own feelings, madam," he said, "and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Please accept my best wishes for your health and happiness." With another bow, he turned and quit the room, several pairs of eyes following his departure.

It suddenly occurred to Elizabeth just how much of a spectacle she had made of herself. When the wave of rage had ravaged her mind, she had no thoughts to anything else, but as the tide pulled her anger back to sea, she felt the most humiliating shame she had ever experienced. Hardly knowing what she did, she excused herself, her eyes downcast and filled with tears. Racing from the room, she flew mindlessly through the corridors of Netherfield, searching for an empty room where she can let the tears fall freely.

In the dining room, Caroline sat with her brother and his paramour, as bewildered as either of them. Initially, she had been pleased with Darcy's annoyance at Eliza's preference for George Wickham, it had been her object to make him see how undesirable a partner Elizabeth Bennet was. She had not anticipated an altercation of such magnitude to commence, and thinking of Darcy's ashen face, she felt a small sensation of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

Charles and Jane were shocked and appalled by the behavior of their friend and sister, and each begged the others pardon. Charles was especially annoyed. He was to London tomorrow, and had been meaning to secure Jane's hand on this very night. He knew that she was too concerned for her sister to think of little else at present, and so his suit would have to be put aside for the night.

Knowing what he must do, Bingley squeezed Jane's hand comfortingly and whispered into her ear, "You are worried about your sister" He said with a sigh, "go to her, I know you want to."

She said nothing, but her blue eyes spoke volumes as she stood up and walked away. He watched her retreating back and felt his heart ache with longing. Turning to Caroline, he suggested that they have some music, and she set off to exhibit, ignoring the niggling pang on her conscious.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** _Hey new readers, you weren't expecting that? Were you? _

_As always, please review! Such inspiration for a young writer :)  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: **_So I was doing some digging on fanfiction(dot)net and to my surprise found out that the newest version has a lot more features to it then it did when I first started posting. I have 73 people who have put Another Sister on their favorite's list, and 114 people who have the story on Alert. Back when I started, they didn't track any of that. Man is that rewarding to see. If you are out there somewhere reading, please drop me a line. I am striving to be the best writer that I can be, but I need help from YOU to do that. _

_I was surprised at how upset you all got with John in Chapter 4, but then as I thought about it, I realized that you guys just don't know him the way I (or Eleanor) do. It's very interesting to write something and then see the way people respond to it emotionally, that's my favorite part of getting reviews. _

Okay, enough of my rambling. Without further ado -

* * *

**CHAPTER 6: THE LETTER**

John was weary of travel. His journey to Lincolnshire had been long, harsh, and unpleasant. November was not an ideal time of the year to take to the roads, and traveling with a seven year old without his mother or a nurse was trying indeed. The Admiral had not anticipated how much his progeny would slow his journey. It was his job to be mindful of the child, and to take good care of him in Eleanor's absence. This meant that they had to stop frequently and eat often, which vexed his father greatly. He tried his best to patient and calm with his son, but his mind was so disagreeably engaged with thoughts of his wife, and his leg raged with such agony, that it was difficult to keep from snapping.

When the great arches of Halston Manor appeared before his eyes, a sense of relief washed over Alcott that he had not been expecting. His childhood home had not been a warm or welcoming place, but with his heart so confused, he needed the strength and discipline of his upbringing to return him to himself again. Little John was intimidated by the grand sight before him, and his father could not blame him for the way his soft brown eyes widened at the sight of the place. It was an enormous structure, built solely for the ostentatious display of wealth, for no man could ever need a home so large.

The child, normally so bright and engaging for one his age that it alarmed many, was silent and withdrawn. He sighed in confusion, unsure of how to draw him out of the shell that had developed on the journey. If Eleanor had been with him, she would have prevented the development, or known what to do to break it, but she was not there. He had begged her for nearly a year to travel with him to his brother's home, but the more he asked the more she vehemently refused. Born into new money, rich from trade, the wealth and heritage of the Alcott name was intimidating to his young wife; the idea that her son might one day be master of all of Halston frightened her immensely.

The distaste John felt at absconding with his child in the middle of the night was intense. In those moments, he had hated his young bride for making him resort to such maneuvers, but it was Andrew's most pressing wish to know his nephew before he passed. John had quit Hertfordshire because of his arguments with Eleanor, but taking little John with him was solely for Andrew' pleasure. The master of Halston's health was failing, and no doctor could seem to determine what exactly ailed him. The brothers were separated by more than ten years in age, but had grown to be very close in their adult lives. It pained John to see his brother's fruitless cling to life, to watch as a man who had been strong and athletic deteriorate before his time. Every time that John traveled to Lincolnshire to see his brother, he was sure that it would be the last time they met.

His wife, who had been a widow once already, was desperate with worry for her husband, and her fears aged her before her time. Emily was not a young woman, but she carried so much sadness with her that she seemed to be very old indeed, much older than her thirty-six years. With Andrew in decline, her efforts to produce him an heir had become frantic. Her husband had resigned himself to the fact that he would never father a child, and wished to bond with his brother's son, but Emily clung to the hope that she could carry him a babe; John often wondered if she truly wanted to provide her husband with an heir, or if she just wanted to have a piece of him with her after he was gone.

Eleanor knew none of this. John had not wanted to trouble his wife with the knowledge of Andrew's poor health while she was in the family way, and so he held all of his fear and anxiety inside, unburdening himself to no one. When he had fleets of ships under his command, John had relished the feeling of control, or making orders and seeing them executed as he instructed. His knowledge of naval history and strategy was far more advanced than most. He appreciated the order of it, of being able to plan an attack and accurately predict all the possible outcomes of the battle. On dry land, he was hesitant and unsure of himself. He could not run his household as he ran a ship, and he could not treat his wife like a captain treated a first mate. Yet he had been at sea for so much of his life that he knew nothing else.

In face of Andrew's probable demise, John felt himself at a loss. He was not in command of human life, nor knowledgeable enough to predict any outcome of any possible situation in which the Alcott family found itself. He hated the waiting, the ever-present sense of dread that followed him in his day to day life. Every time the mail came, his whole body tensed, waiting for the dreaded day that word would reach him. Whenever a paper was in his hands, he scanned it with frantic, searching eyes, pleading with God that he would spare his brother another day.

Eleanor knew nothing, and suspected less, for he had been so schooled in keeping his emotions at bay as a child that hardly knew how to express them. She knew only that Emily and Andrew wanted to become little John's guardians, and to take her son in as ward. She knew that she was young, and beautiful, and whole, and that a precious new life grew within her. She did not know the gloomy thoughts that kept her husband awake through the night, the way his imagination haunted his steps. She was preoccupied with the present, with her brother and Miss Bennet, with Darcy and Elizabeth, when all he could think about was the inevitable unhappy future before him.

Since John had quit Netherfield suddenly, and sent no word of his coming, his arrival at Halston was a surprise for everyone present. The hour was late and most of the household kept to their beds, but recognized as the master's brother, he was begrudgingly admitted entrance. He begged the servant not to wake his brother, and so it was Mrs. Alcott that greeted him in the foyer, her rust colored hair spilling down her shoulders, her eyes tired and grave.

"Brother," She whispered hoarsely, approaching John and taking his hands in her own, "it is very good to have you here."

"And I am glad to be here." John said with a soft smile, one that did not reach his eyes.

"You have brought your son with you." She said, indicting to where the sleepy child sat on the floor of the foyer, "I will have a bed readied for him immediately." Calling for a servant, she gave the necessary instructions, and lead her brother-in-law and nephew into the parlor.

More servants entered, some in their livery and some in their night clothes, all with tired, irritated expressions. When the room was illuminated and a cheery fire roared in the hearth, the mistress dismissed them with heartfelt thanks and apologies. Little John was taken to the room that had been readied for him, his tired head resting on a man-servants shoulder. When they were finally alone, Emily drew herself to her full height and addressed the Admiral with cold contempt, saying:

"What in Heaven's name are you doing here, John?"

John looked past his sister, his dark eyes appraising her. "I come to visit with my brother, as I ought."

"With no notice, with not a word from you in weeks?" She asked, incredulous.

John's lips formed a thin line of annoyance, and he ran his hands through coarse dark hair, streaked with silver. "I am known to be an indolent correspondent." He said with wry amusement, thinking of his first introduction into Hertfordshire society.

Emily's pale complexion reddened with anger. "I am not fond of your boyish charms, Admiral." She said, her eyes glinting dangerously, "You have come to my home, in the middle of the night, quite unwelcome, without offering an explanation for your actions. Andrew and I are happy to have you with us, in fact we have invited your family many times to stay at Halston, but I will not be awoken in the middle of the night by an impertinent relation who thinks of no one but himself."

"My brother is dying!" The Admiral furiously cried. "Forgive some incivility, if indeed, I have been uncivil!"

"My husband is dying." She shot back with vexation, "Show some courtesy!"

Seeing the tears that were welling in her eyes, John let out a sigh of defeat. Exhausted and aching, he looked toward his sister by marriage with large, sad eyes. "Forgive me," He said, with a nod of deference, "I am acting like a cad. These are grim times for both of us, and I need to remember my place in this house."

Emily smiled gently, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her grief. "Thank you." She said softly, with all the tenderness of a mother to a new born. "John, I will not ask you again….why are you here?"

After a long pause, his shoulders shrugged slightly. "I wanted to be home." He said with a resigned sigh, "This is home."

**o0o0o0o**

Jane's search for Elizabeth was quick. Most of the rooms of Netherfield had been locked off for the night by the servants, and there were very few private places Elizabeth had to run off to so that she could weep in solitude. With some guidance from the servants, she happened upon her sister in the library, which had been opened for guests, but was thankfully devoid of them.

The door to the library creaked open slowly and Elizabeth quickly wiped her tears away. She knew she must look a wreck, but the was nothing for it. She sniffed loudly and prayed silently that it wasn't Mr. Darcy who stood behind her.

"Lizzy?" came a gentle inquiry from the entrance way.

Elizabeth turned around, her bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks made Jane's heart clench. "Jane!" She cried, in a voice so filled with sorrow it was an alien sound to her sister's ear.

"Oh, Lizzy I'm so sorry," she said, rushing over to her sister's seat and wrapping her arms around her, "I came as soon as I could."

"No Jane, don't apologize." Elizabeth croaked, "I am so embarrassed I could burst. How can you apologize when I just mortified you in front of Mr. Bingley?"

"Mortified me?" Jane asked, genuinely perplexed, "Heaven's no!"

Lizzy smiled slightly, through all her tears. Jane was the kindest person she had ever met. "Jane, I can not abide by how I acted! That I should speak so to anyone, and in company no less!"

Jane bit her lip, trying to figure out how to both sooth her sister and lecture her simultaneously. "You and Mr. Darcy both behaved very badly," She said, hesitantly, "neither of you conducted yourself with the deportment you were raised with."

Lizzy laughed with self-mockery. "No, Mr. Darcy certainly did not. But perhaps I did. Perhaps we are as vulgar as he finds us, after-all."

Jane frowned. "No Lizzy, you are quite mistaken, and it was very wrong of Mr. Darcy to speak so."

"It was wrong of me, as well, no matter how much I dislike the man!" Lizzy spat, dabbing at her wet eyes.

Jane rubbed her little sister's back soothingly. "You have never been one to contain your opinions, Lizzy, I know that. I can not blame you for what occurred, but I do encourage you to try to check your temper in the future."

"Indeed I shall." Lizzy replied with a long sniff, "Forgive me Jane, I am being foolish. I don't even know why I'm crying. When did Mr. Darcy's opinion begin to mean anything to me?"

Thoughtfully, Jane replied, "Perhaps you put more stock in his good opinion than you then you would believe yourself to."

Lizzy frowned and shook her head. "That can not be the reason. I care as little for him as he does for me."

"Well, your tears must go without explanation, if that is the case." Jane said teasingly, "One of the many aspects of being a woman that none of us care for."

Elizabeth giggled slightly despite herself, "Oh Jane." She said squeezing her sister tightly, "What would I do without you?"

"Charlotte Lucas would see more of you, I dare say." Jane said with a laugh.

Elizabeth laughed as well, her sorrows momentarily forgotten in the comfort of her sister's embrace.

**o0o0o0o**

In his own quarters, Darcy was having trouble calming the wild beating of his heart. As much as he tried to put the thought from his mind, he was unable to forget the scene with Elizabeth at dinner. He paced his room angrily, as if wearing a hole through the floor would forever banish Wickham from his life. No matter where he went, that man hung over him, a constant ominous shadow, determined to ruin any bit of happiness Darcy was able to find in his life.

Fitzwilliam had been astonished to learn what Elizabeth Bennet truly thought of him. He had assumed her pert opinions had been flirtation, not hatred! That she meant to challenge him in a playful manner, not a serious one. He cursed himself for not making his attentions clear from the start, and he had lived to rue the day that he had even claimed her to be "tolerable". Had she overheard him, even then? Had he made a mess of everything from the start?

Suddenly, it occurred to Darcy that there was nothing to be made a mess of. He had been resolved from an early time that no young lady in Hertfordshire would touch his heart, since they were so beneath him, socially. When Elizabeth Bennet had begun to attract his notice, with her impertinent, mischievous nature, and enchanting eyes, he had admired her from afar, with no intention of gaining her affection. For many long weeks, he had been content to observe her, like one might a fine piece of art, and then had been shocked to discover that she did not hold him as tenderly as he did her. Wickham had ruined nothing for him, except her good opinion of him, since he had never seriously considered the idea of actually courting a country-no one. Despite Admiral John's advice to admire for his heart instead of his family, he had been unwilling to seriously consider Elizabeth Bennet, and now any chance at having her was ruined forever.

Somewhere during the course of the night, it dawned on Darcy that despite his protests, he had lost the battle. His heart was in her hands, to do with what she would. She had enchanted him, body and soul, and he was bound to her in a way he had never experienced before. He loved her, despite of everything, and when he finally was able to accept that fact, as he held her in this arms and lead her across the dance floor; as he had her dine by his side; he discovered the most terrible thing he had ever heard:

She hated him.

When he had accused her of believing Wickham due to his flattery and appeals to her vanity, she had cut him to the core. It was not his flattery that had drawn her in, but rather his expression of gentility that convinced her of his word. Had he behaved in a more gentleman-like manner, she would be more inclined to believe his side, but no, Wickham's gentility was what drew her in. Ha! That scoundrel had not an ounce of gentility in his veins, he was simply fortunate enough to present a very good mask to the world. She had said that if Darcy had attempted to flatter her and make love to her as Wickham did now, she would feel only disgust.

Disgust.

Heartbroken, Fitzwilliam Darcy was at an utter loss as to what he should do.

Interrupting his reverie, a soft knock was heard on his bedroom door. "Yes?" he said, trying to sound calm and composed.

"Uncle Fitz?" came Anna Alcott's childish voice from the other side of the door, "Can we come in?"

"Of course you can," Mr. Darcy said opening the door to reveal little Anna and her brother Charles in their night clothes, "You need never ask."

"We need to talk 'bout something important Uncle." Anna said stoutly.

"Come right in then," He replied kindly, utterly perplexed.

The two children walked in slowly and uncomfortably. Mr. Darcy sat down on his bed and gently patted a spot next to him. "Won't you sit down?" he asked, his deep voice soft and tender. Anna smiled and crawled onto his lap, but little Charles chose to stand.

"Now," Mr. Darcy said meeting the young boys' eyes. "Tell me what all this fuss is about."

"Well," Charles said slowly, "It's about Mama."

"Mama!" Mimicked Anna.

"Yes, what about your Mama?" Mr. Darcy asked taking on every air of the honorary uncle.

"She cries." Charles said sadly.

Darcy frowned, unsure of what to say. His cousin-in-law had been seemingly out of spirits since her husband had been called away on business, but Darcy had not noticed anything to cause her alarm. During the course of the ball she had been in good spirits, although she did retire very early. Eleanor was a dear friend to him, and it bother Darcy that he did not notice her distress, since he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts as of late.

"We all cry sometimes." Darcy gently replied, "Even adults."

"She cries lots." Anna said, burrowing her face into the crook of Darcy's neck.

"Lots?" Darcy asked, his alarm growing. "Since when?"

"Since Papa left. He took Johnny." Anna chirped unhappily.

"Papa did not! He is coming back!" Charles huffed.

"I say we write Papa a letter Uncle Fitz," Anna pouted, "but brother says no!"

"Why, I think that is a wonderful idea." Mr. Darcy said, thinking of his own situation as well as theirs. "Let us write a letter."

Darcy was a diligent uncle, and helped the children write a letter to their father, asking him to hurry home. When it was completed, he saw Anna and Charles back to the nursery, and tucked them both in securely. The ball was still in full swing downstairs, and for a moment Darcy thought that he should rejoin the party, and confront Elizabeth with the truth about everything. Only his embarrassment at the scene he had caused, and his respect for Charles prevented him from making his way to the first floor. Glancing at his writing desk, he opted for the safest option, and began to write. If he worked quickly and diligently he would be able to sleep for a few hours this evening, before they left for London.

_Miss Bennet,_

_Do not be alarmed, madam, upon receiving this letter, that I repeat any of those sentiments which were, last night, so disgusting to you. I wrote to you with one purpose alone, to clear my name of cruelty toward Mr. Wickham. This evening, I find myself at an awkward position. I can either forget propriety, something I rarely do, and write this letter to you, or I can let you live in a world full of petty lies. You can not be surprised at my decision in this case. I have opted to leave behind my pride, and humbly grovel at your feet. _

_Before I begin, I must beg your forgiveness, not only for my unpardonably rude actions of the previous evening, but in reality, toward my behavior throughout the whole of my stay in Hertfordshire. You were right to call me proud, for indeed, I did find myself above my company, and looked down my nose toward the people I had met in the county. Once my initial anger after our altercation subsided, I was able to contemplate my actions in light of your accusations. While I do not believe I have behaved quite as villainously as you informed that I did, you are quite right to call me both arrogant and condescending, for indeed that is how I behaved. I do not have the happy manners of making friends wherever I go, and rather than put forth the effort, I chose to deem that effort beneath me. I know that this was wrong of me, but it was not done as a conscious snub to yourself, your family, or anyone in Meryton. I can not deny that the so-called 'charming' country manners I found in the area failed to charm me on several occasions, but that does not warrant the coldness or incivility of my address. _

_I have lived a very insular life, despite my station, and it is hard for me to make new friends or feel easy in company with whom I am not particularly acquainted. I feel that some of this shyness must come from living in the shadow of another for the majority of my childhood and adolescent years, a certain George Wickham._

_This evening, you accused me of denying Mr. Wickham the inheritance my father left for him, and reducing him to his present state of poverty. As I said before, this is in fact true, but several important facts have been omitted from Mr. Wickham's version of the tale, and I feel I need to rectify that. Initially, I had not been willing to divulge the full story because they are in fact, my personal affairs, however my reason for confiding in you is two-fold. Firstly, I know that Wickham is paying court to you at present, and I mean to warn you away from such a man. I know that you, of any woman of my acquaintance, will have the intelligence and will-power to refuse his advances, once you know the truth. Secondly, I can not bear to think that you are alive in the world, and thinking ill of me. My only rebuttal to Wickham's claims is to lay before you the entirety of the tale, starting from the very beginning, and praying to God that you will believe me._

_I know not under what pretensions of falsehoods Mr. Wickham has slandered my reputation and gained your good opinion, how much truth he has told you, and how many lies, and so I begin with this. _

_George Wickham is the son of a very wise and respectable man, whom had management over the Darcy family estate during his lifetime. My father and his were particularly close friends, and when his father passed, my own father supported George at school, and eventually Cambridge. As children, George and I were in separable companions, and my father was just as fond as him as he was of me, his own flesh and blood. The fondness for Wickham increased when I was thirteen and he was twelve, when my Mother passed away, shortly after the birth of my sister Georgiana. _

_As we grew older, the ties that bound George Wickham and I to each other began to fall apart. At school, away from the influence of my father, who George made a practice of pleasing, I soon found that Mr. Wickham's habits were as dissolute as his manners were engaging. When my father passed, some five years ago, he had made the option of our rectory living available to him, should George choose to take orders. Instead, Mr. Wickham asked, and was granted the sum of three thousand pounds, expressing an interest in studying the law. I wished, rather than believed this interest to be sincere. At this time, all familiarity between us seemed dissolved, and we did not attempt to remain in contact. _

_After a few months, I heard from George, asking for more money, or indeed, for the living asked for in my father's will. The vacancy at our church had already been filled by another, and since Wickham had managed to spend three thousand pounds in less than a year, I did not feel inclined to grant him any more. After this occurrence, all appearances of an acquaintance was dropped. _

_Unfortunately, our paths met again last summer under the most painful of circumstances. I must beg of you Miss Bennet, to not share any of the following with any other persons, as it is something that I would like to keep a great secret for the sake of my sister's reputation. Georgiana, my sister, who is more than ten years my junior, was left to the guardianship of myself and my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. Last summer she was taken away from school, with the lady who resigned over it, to Ramsgate for a summer holiday. And thither also went Mr. Wickham, for he had a former acquaintance with Mrs. Younge in whose character we were mightily deceived. He went to Ramsgate and courted Georgiana, until she fancied herself in love, and consented to an elopement. Thankfully, I arrived a few days before the intended elopement, and Georgiana, not wishing to grieve a brother she looked up to almost as a father, openly acknowledged the plan in it's entirety to me._

_You may imagine how I felt, and how I acted. Mr. Wickham, left the place immediately, and moved into town. Mrs. Younge was removed from her position in the school, and Georgiana was taken back to Pemberley. She has recovered from her heartache as best a young girl can; growing more mature with her age, for at the time of her intended elopement she was only fifteen years old. _

_I know not how Mr. Wickham has presented himself to you, but if you do not take this account as an entire falsehood, I hope that you should acquit me of cruelty towards him. To the truth of this letter, I can appeal to not only the testimony of my cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, whom in the joint guardianship of my sister knows the entirety of these affairs, but also to Mrs. Alcott, who happened upon me after I had just learned of the intended elopement and knows of these events in their entirety. _

_On any other point, I have nothing further to say, and no other apologies to offer. I will only add, God bless you._

_Your servant,_

_Fitzwilliam Darcy_

**o0o0o0o0o**

The master of Halston Manor was not at the breakfast table the next morning, and was unable to receive his brother until close to mid day. John grew impatient, pacing the halls of his childhood home, and barking at the servants who dared to cross his path. Emily took great delight in entertaining her nephew, and always desirous of an attentive audience, young John did not notice his father's preoccupation.

When John was finally shown into Andrew's study, he had expected to see his brother resting in a wingback chair, wearing his dressing robe and night-cap, looking pale and withdrawn. Instead he was greeted to the sight of his elder brother in his evening dress, standing with his back full straight, a top hat jauntily placed atop a thick crown of silver hair. Baffled, John gave his brother a bow, and before he could speak, Andrew addressed him, saying:

"Good God man, you look like shit."

"And you look utterly ridiculous!" John cried with confusion, taking a seat.

Andrew grinned at his brother, the Alcott twinkle unmistakable in his eyes. "So many men die in their darkened bedrooms, the fire roaring, the shutters drawn, coughing away in their night clothes. If I am to die, so soon, before I am ready, I want to die with some dignity!" He laughed.

"You always had a macabre sense of humor, brother." John huffed in annoyance.

"No past tense yet sir!" Andrew replied, taking a seat across from his nearest relation, "I still _have _a macabre sense of humor, thank you."

John sighed, looking at his brother worriedly. "I can see through your charades, I know you too well, Andrew. You are doing this for Emily, and even for me to an extent."

Andrew sighed, taking the hat off of his head and fiddling with it in his hands. Not meeting John's eye, he said, "I have never been one for melancholia, to lose faith or to give up hope….I am still alive today, and that is more than I ever really hoped for or expected. It is far longer than any doctor, surgeon, or apothecary imagined for me." He looked toward his brother, and a matching set of solemn brown eyes met across the expanse of the room. "Is it so wrong of me to keep fighting?"

"No!" John cried, his tone vehement. "I would never wish for you to stop fighting. Not for a moment." He stood, wobbling slightly on his false leg. "I do not want to lose you!" He exclaimed.

His brother smiled sadly, his eyes kind and soothing. "You will lose me eventually John, that is the way of things, I'm afraid. You are a military man, you're well acquainted with that wily old bitch, Death."

"I wish we had never been introduced." John replied with a touch of humor, sitting himself back down.

Andrew grinned, the twinkle returning to his enormous chocolate orbs. "A wise man said that we are all dead men walking. I have no idea who, but it's a rather clever little quip because it's so damnably true. Death is inevitable. We must face it as it comes."

"Indeed." His brother said, running a hand through graying hair.

"There are few things I want you to know, John." Andrew said, rousing his good humor. "The estate is entailed to your eldest, you know that. It will be in your keeping until he comes of age, but the majority of the fortune is in trusts. As his legal guardian, you will receive only a small stipend from my fortune for upkeep of Halston and the accompanying properties. The dowager house is not included in the entail, I'm not entirely sure why, and so I've willed that property into Emily's keeping. There is also a small summer cottage in Lyme that I've given to her as well, in the hopes that she can let the property and generate an income. She has her own fortune, that should serve her very well for some time, but I want something to supplement it, so that she can live comfortably into old age without having to worry. Charles and Anna are each to receive a small property as well, along with a sum of some six-thousand pounds each. I have another property and the same sum that will be willed to a future child, but if you and Eleanor have no more children, the amount and the property go to your wife."

"I…thank you, Andrew." John replied, dumbstruck by his brother's generosity.

Andrew smiled with wry amusement. "I know what it was like for you, to see everything fall into my hands, having not a single piece of property or a cent come to you in Father's will. I know that you were lucky to have the support of our family to back you in your career, and I would see Charles have the same opportunity you had, in that degree. He and his sister will have sturdy homes to call their own one day, but while they are children, I advise you to let the properties and supplement their inheritance with it. You are wealthy, John, but with the way you and Eleanor have children, you will not be able to support them all."

John chuckled lightly. "There is another on the way, already."

His brother smiled. "Is there, is there indeed?" He asked, delighted. "I only hope that I can live out the winter so that I may meet my newest niece or nephew."

The Admiral matched his brother's smile with one of his own, although it did not meet his eyes. Thinking wistfully of the wife he had left behind in Hertfordshire, he replied, saying, "The child is expected shortly after the new year. Eleanor is to begin her confinement soon. You seem quite farther from your end than I was lead to believe, I have hope that you will live some years at least."

"So soon?" The master of the house asked, very surprised, "Why are you all the way in Lincolnshire, John? You should be with Eleanor!"

John frowned, unsure of what to say. He had not been expecting his elder brother to press him on this subject. "Emily writes that you grow more and more ill, I wanted to see you. Pay my respects."

"This is nonsense!" Andrew cried, alarmed. "I have never had the privilege to have a wife in confinement, but I know full well that this is the most dangerous time for her. That you should abandon her at this time to see me, of all people! You owe me nothing, John, nothing at all. I know that you love me as you ought, without you abandoning your wife and future child at the most critical time in their lives." Growing more irate, Andrew stood, pacing the study with anger. "Eleanor is far closer to death's door than I am at the moment. The moment a woman conceives, she is ringing the bell, waiting for an answer. This is unpardonable of you, brother! I can not pretend to understand this, even for an instant."

Abashed and thoroughly humbled, John looked at the floor with a heavy sigh. He knew full well that what his brother said was true, yet had too much pride to own it. "We fought." He finally said, his voice heavy with regret, "We fought as we had never fought before in eight years of marriage. Some of the things I said….I could not look at her, because I was so ashamed."

"John, you are a military man of the highest order! That you would be cowardly enough to retreat from your wife shocks me!"

"Dealing with marriage and dealing with battle are quite different." John ruefully replied.

Andrew sighed, sat down behind his desk, and rifled through a few drawers. "John," he said tiredly, "you are wasting precious time that could be spent with your wife, who loves you, and who you love in return." Pausing for a moment, he sifted through a few pieces of paper until he found the one he was looking for. The page was yellowed from over thirty years of living in a desk drawer, the edges were burnt on one side. On it was a simple pencil sketch of a young woman, with large, mischievous brown eyes, and curls so dark they were almost black.

"Here!" He said, thrusting the paper into his brother's hands. "When Father destroyed all the portraits of Mother, I drew this for you, so that you would know her face. You were so young when she died, giving birth to our sister, God rest their souls, and when Father could no longer bear to look at her, I drew this so you would not forget her. Do you remember it?"

"Yes," John whispered, his hands trembling and his voice becoming thick with emotion. "I remember it. Yes."

"You threw it into the dying fire, because you did not want to look at her. You hated her as a boy, because she had abandoned you, she had left you in the sole care of Sir James Alcott, and you despised her for it." Andrew said, staring at his brother with a firmness of purpose.

"And when I ran out of the room," John said, choking back his tears, "you grabbed it from the fire…why?"

"Mother had been gone some months, and so had all the portraits of her. I was afraid if I drew a new sketch, with no model and only my memories to draw from, I would distort her somehow. It was a foolish notion, for I can see her face as plain as day if only I close my eyes, but there you have it." Andrew responded.

"You kept it for me, all these years?"

"Truth be told, I had forgotten it for some time. With no likeness of Mother left, it had become just as precious to me as it is to you, but it made my heart heavy to look at it with too much frequency, so I put it away." He paused for a moment, and then with gravity said, "Now that I am dying, I entrust this treasure to you."

They were silent for a long while, each lost in thoughts and memories of their youth. After the death of Halston's mistress, the lord of the manor had grown very cold. He had never been a jovial man, unlike both of his sons, but without the tempering and softening touch of their mother in the household, all of his worst characteristics took hold, and the Alcott home became one of discipline and cruelty. Neither brother had mourned their father when he passed, some twelve years previously.

"Thank you." John said, gazing at the face of a woman he had long forgotten, "With all sincerity Andrew, I mean it."

"You can thank me by going home to your wife, John." Andrew said tiredly, "Birthing children is the most dangerous thing a woman can do, and there is no certainty in life, I know that all too well. You need to savor every moment you have with her, because this may be the time that she does not survive the child bed. I do not care that you fought, what the reason was, and who was in the right and who was in the wrong. You have a duty to her, and to your children…you would not have them forget her face, would you?"

"No," John whispered hoarsely, "I would not."

"I know that your horses need to recover from the journey, and you as well. Your leg troubles you, I am well aware. But if you do not quit Halston in three days time, I will have you, your son, and your horses forcibly ejected from the premises. Is that understood?"

Sitting up straight, and meeting him brother's level gaze, he replied, "Indeed it is," with a touch of his good humor returning to his eyes.

Standing and walking toward the door of the study, Andrew addressed his brother a final time. "You must forgive me," he said, suddenly sounding much older than his fifty-three years, "the excitement of our audience has quite exhausted me. I am to my bed chamber. Perhaps I will come down for dinner."

"Rest brother," John warmly said, "I would have you keep your strength."

Andrew sent his younger brother a long, searching glance. "I would have you keep yours, John." He finally said with finality. Quitting the room, he left his brother alone, his mind racing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes: **_First off, apologies in how long it took me to get this chapter up! I just began a new term at school and went on a trip to visit a friend in the military, and have been very, very busy. This chapter is actually an excerpt from a chapter that was almost three times as long, but I found myself really unhappy from the way it read in one large chunk, and decided to do some revision to make it flow better, although that makes the chapter shorter. I promise the next chapter will not be so long in coming!_

_Also, I want to thank you for the absolutely WONDERFUL reviews that have been coming in. Honestly they are such an inducement for a writer to get their butt into gear, and the more feedback you can give me on the chapter, the better! As usual I do not have a beta, so I would love you to point out spelling and grammatical issues to me. If you're going to review, the more you have to say about what you did and didn't like about the chapter the better! _

_**In response to some reviews, there have been questions regarding Eleanor's attack on John that, "You make liberal use of another woman's legs, I see no reason for that." **I have been asked a few times if i was indicting that John cheated on his beautiful, intelligent, loving wife. The answer would be YES. I am a very firm believer in writing characters who are real and have depth. When I originally wrote this story, John and Eleanor become engaged in a fight that was so pointless, petty, and childish that I contemplated removing any altercation between them at all in the rewrite. Adults do not have fights about the same things their (at the time) 13 year old writer would. I finally decided to not only include the fight, but to mature it and expand it because I think that to read about this perfect, happy couple who never fights and who match-makes with the established characters makes for a pretty uninteresting read. What's the point in that? What are we getting out of it, especially since the the canon-couples are staying the same? This also gave me a way to incorporate Andrew and Emily into the story at an earlier place. If you read the original version, you may recall them coming to visit the Alcotts after Eleanor gives birth, and then never appearing again. I wanted to make my characters all have a purpose and be established human beings with personalities and depth and history, rather than just throwing in OCs any spot they were needed. As for John's infideilty, the who, when, where, why, how of it all will be elaborated as the story progresses. I will say that he did a very bad thing,, but he is not a bad man, but a complex human being with many flaws, and I wouldn't start to hate him for those flaws just yet anyway...He is trying to be a better person, but that is often a long a difficult process for him. And we all know that Eleanor isn't the Regency era wife who took that kind of stuff laying down, either._

* * *

When the letter arrived during breakfast that morning, Elizabeth was at a loss as to who it could be from, or the contents that might be inside. Not recognizing the hand, she tore the letter open with interest, glad her mother had indulged in too many of the party spirits, and kept to her bed for the time being. She was incessantly nosy, and was keen on snatching one's correspondence directly from one's hand. As she began to read, shock, anger and humiliation hit her with force, and raced through her blood. Mr. Collins and her sisters were being a nuisance, inquiring as to who the letter may be from, and eventually Lizzy could bear their chatter no longer, and fled from the table without excusing herself.

Her eager cousin was hot on her heels, and vexed beyond belief, Elizabeth raced into the woods and veered off of the path, so that she could lose him in the forest. In her haste she had forgotten her over-coat and her gloves, and the late November morning was bitterly cold. Breathing deeply and seeing it crystallize in front of her eyes, Lizzy sighed with frustration, opened the letter again, and read it once more.

The letter was from Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy was utterly amazed. That Mr. Darcy had flouted propriety and written to her was astonishing. The proper etiquette in writing to a young lady was to seek the permission of her guardian first, and if Darcy had spoken to her father, she had no knowledge of it. Her eyes poured over the contents of the letter as she trudged, and she paused to contemplate Darcy's every word, occasionally exclaiming aloud when he particularly irritated her. What exasperated her the most was that the more times she read Darcy's letter, the more she realized how well on several accounts his story and George Wickham's were a match set.

When Wickham had first told his tale of woe in her parlor, that afternoon some weeks previously, he had spoken of the kindness and attention the late Mr. Darcy had shown him. He had spoken of how he was the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and that he and Darcy had played together as boys. This remained true in Mr. Darcy's account as well. The support Mr. Darcy had given Wickham at school and at university was also the same as what Wickham had described.

In fact, the only place at which the two stories deviated was in the matter of Mr. Darcy's will. Biting her lip, Lizzy tried to recall if she had, at any point, given Darcy the particulars of what Wickham had told her family. All she could recollect saying was that Darcy had denied the gentleman of his inheritance and left him penniless; she had presented Darcy with none of the particulars of the matter. For Darcy to be lying, he would have had to known exactly what Wickham had said. She did not want to believe Darcy to be telling the truth in this case, but there seemed to be nothing else for it!

In regards to the will, the two stories varied greatly. Wickham had told the general populous that he had been intended for the church, and that Darcy had flatly refused his father's dying wish for him. Darcy agreed the Wickham had been intended for the church, but had refused his promised living and was granted a monetary sum for compensation. Three thousand pounds was no mere trifle, either, well more than what many men made in a year.

As she thought on the subject more, it occurred to Lizzy that the mere fact that Mr. Wickham had confided in her and her family on a such a short acquaintance did not speak in his favor. She wanted to believe him, but the more she ruminated on the matter at hand, the less she was able to, much to her consternation.

Before George Wickham had come to Hertfordshire, the general opinion of Mr. Darcy was not entirely bad. He was not known to be untruthful. The general dislike of him in Meryton was chiefly built on pride, and pride he probably had. He had said himself at the supper table that, 'when there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation". He was a man of ten-thousand a year, and very likely more. He was used to the best, and the best was not what Meryton and Hertfordshire had to offer. The venom the dislike of him had taken on had not occurred until Wickham had entered the neighborhood, and began to blacken Darcy's name.

Heading back in the direction of Longbourne, Lizzy concluded that Mr. Darcy was a proud, disagreeable sort of man, but that did not immediately make him a villain. She could tell from the way he wrote that he loved his sister a great deal, and even if he did not, his pride would have prevented him from sharing her scandal, or making it up, if it was not true and necessary. She would not call him a good tempered man, and after her argument with him at Netherfield, her belief in his taciturn, severe, humorless nature was heightened. However, these traits did not immediately turn him into the sort of man that would willfully disregard his father's dying wishes out of petty jealousy.

Her hands and face stinging with cold, Elizabeth ran back toward her home, desperate to show Jane the letter and seek her counsel on what was best to be done. Darcy had only wished for Miss Darcy's part in the story to remain secret, and she knew that she could count on Jane to keep it so. Ruefully, Elizabeth smiled to herself, thinking of how Jane would be determined to see both gentlemen in the best light, even with such evidence before them.

As she made her way out of the little wilderness that bordered the estate, Lizzy was shocked to see two carriages on the lane that she needed to pass in order to make her way home. She lingered in the brush, observing the carriage as it made it's way down the road. Piled high with luggage on each, she frowned, wondering who could be traveling from the county on such a day. Was it merely a wealthy person passing through, or one of the neighbors? Observing that they traveled at an unusually slow pace, Elizabeth decided to try her luck and step out onto the road before they reached her spot. She was not known to have a patient disposition, and the morning was very cold indeed.

Much later, Lizzy would reflect that fate itself intervened quite fortuitously for her on that very day. Just as she stepped out fully from the woods and onto the road, the driver of the first carriage slapped his reigns lightly, enough to hasten the horses' steps only the most minute of amounts. Seeing this, Lizzy realized her error in not waiting for the carriages to pass her by, but rather than step backward, she only hastened her step as well, in order to make her way across swiftly. In her eagerness, her slipper caught on a pebble at such an angle as to cause her to lose her balance and fall without the slightest trace of ladylike elegance. With a cry of surprise, she found herself face down across the lane, her petty coat sick inches deep in mud, at least, her entire being covered in dust from head to toe.

The driver, witnessing a young lady tumbling in the road before him, halted the carriage with alacrity. He was a diligent man, and did not wish to lose his position due to his failure to prevent the squashing of a woman beneath the carriage wheels. The sudden stop jolted the passengers, who cried out in alarm at the nature of the movement. If Mrs. Bennet had been amongst their number, talk immediately would have begun of gypsies and highway men intent on molesting them, and ruining her daughters; but as she was absent, better heads prevailed. In fact, the carriage that had come to such a sudden stop was occupied by Mrs. John Alcott, her cousin-by-way-of-marriage, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and her dear brother, Charles Bingley, all of whom were thought to be gentlemen (and woman) of good sense. Swiftly, both Mr. Bingley and his friend were out doors, to inquire with the driver as to what exactly had occurred, neither anticipating the view of a gentlewoman sprawled across the roadway.

Ruefully, Elizabeth began to rise, pushing her torso up with her forearms and hands. She could feel her face flushing at the spectacle she had made of herself, and only hoped that these carriages belonged to strangers, who she would never cross paths with again. Just as she began to apologize, unwilling to look at the driver she had startled, she felt herself being pulled upward with force and almost a degree of impatient incivility. Tilting her head upward to thank the gentleman who had assisted her, Elizabeth felt her heart drop to her stomach. Surely this could not be…

"Mr. Darcy!" She cried in a surprised whisper, his letter still clutched in her hand.

His surprise was great as well. "Miss Bennet!" He exclaimed, almost dropping her in his shock, "Are you well?"

She swallowed, trying to calm herself before she spoke, and meeting his eye with a look that spoke of mysteries he could not decipher, she replied, "I find myself rather more embarrassed than injured, sir."

Still holding each of her upper arms where he had lifted her from her position on the ground, Darcy glanced down at her knuckle-white grip on the parchment in her left hand. He paled, and gave her a long, searching glance. Meeting his rich, deep gaze with her own sparkling hazel, Elizabeth found herself unable to tear herself from his soul-searching inquiry. As they looked at one another, the cold November air stinging their skin, the heat from one another's body filling the space between them, it occurred to Elizabeth that this moment was more intimate than anything she had ever experienced before. He looked at her so earnestly, so intensely, so hopefully, and yet so sadly, that she knew she now had a connection with Mr. Darcy with which few others would ever share. That knowledge frightened her as much as it exhilarated her with a heady sense of belonging. Despite her dislike of the man, in those moments she knew that they were somehow linked to one another, that their fates were inevitably tied, that there was some sort of affinity between them. The unspoken bond crackled between them, an almost tangible after-shock of some kind of ancient magic.

Softly and with a hint of his dimpled smile he finally spoke. "I feel likewise, Miss Bennet." He responded, and Lizzy knew that he spoke of the ball and their argument.

Suddenly Charles was upon them, and Darcy dropped his hands from Elizabeth as if the fabric of her sleeves had caught fire. What had passed between them had only been a matter of seconds, but to the pair it had felt like an eon. Lizzy found herself missing the comforting weight of him steadying her on her feet, even as she smiled at Mr. Bingley, reassuring him of her safety.

"And you are sure you a quite alright Miss Elizabeth?" Bingley was saying, his brow furrowing in concern.

"I am perfectly well, I assure you!" She said with a small, forced laugh, her eyes drifting to where Darcy stood, his face resuming it's stoic mask. "I am very sorry to have made such a fuss!"

"I feel quite dreadful!" Mr. Bingley exclaimed, all good natured apologies, "If we had left Netherfield but a few moments earlier, we would have never crossed paths, and therefore you would have never taken a fall! And if Caroline had not insisted on a quicker pace, you may have crossed the lane quite undisturbed even still!"

"Are your sisters with you, Mr. Bingley? I can not help but notice that you seem to have a great deal of luggage with you for a short trip of business in London." Elizabeth asked, surveying the two large carriages.

"Indeed they are, Miss Elizabeth, and I am sure they will be most distressed to hear what injury we have caused you today. My sister Caroline was most adamant on accompanying me to London for the duration of my stay, and it soon became that the entire party should all journey to town now, while the roads are still in good condition." Charles responded, sounding almost confused by the plan as he explained it.

Lizzy smiled to herself, thinking that the superior sister had grown bored of the fresh country air, and wished to return to the society that she seemed born for. Her mind whirling with possibilities of what this sudden departure could mean, Lizzy frowned, her teeth pulling her lower lip downward. Looking at Mr. Bingley with a calculating eye, Lizzy quickly determined that for his part, at least, there could be no malicious intent. Taking pity on her sister's amiable suitor, Elizabeth teasingly replied, "Are you to quit the neighborhood without taking leave of it's principle inhabitants? My mother will be most displeased. You did promise her a family dinner, after all."

"Indeed I did," Bingley replied with a laugh, "and I have no desire to disappoint her. As soon as I am returned, I will be your mother's guest at Longbourne as soon as is convenient for her. My duration in London shall not be long, in fact I hoped to be in and out of town so quickly so as my absence to go unnoticed."

"Charles!" Darcy interrupted, his voice sharp and abrupt, "we need to continue on our journey if we want to reach London before nightfall."

Frowning, the master of Netherfield glanced toward the cold November sun overhead. "You are quite correct, Darcy," he said congenially, "but first we must see Miss Elizabeth home." A somewhat impish grin spread across his lips he saw a vague protest forming on his friends behalf. "As our carriage was the cause of her stumble, seeing the lady home is the only gentlemanly thing to be done."

Any protest Darcy could have made perished unheard with Bingley's declaration. He knew his friend was correct, escorting Miss Elizabeth home _was _the only proper or gentlemanly course of action to take, but his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach twisting into knots dreaded the very thing. How could he be near her after how he had behaved at Netherfield? How could he sit in so confined a space with her, even for a moment, without losing his wits entirely? With her, he was hopeless, he had lost the battle entirely, and his hand shook lightly by his side, undetectable to anyone save himself.

For her part, Elizabeth blanched, just as unwilling to be in carriage with Mr. Darcy as he was with her. Her fall had been embarrassing enough on it's own merit, but to sit across from him, his shocking words still grasped in her hand! What an idea! She begged Mr. Bingley to allow her on her way, but he very quickly became fixated on the idea. The pair argued over the course for some duration, all smiles and good humor. Lizzy knew if she did not give in eventually, she would swiftly go for impertinent to completely rude, but was too frightened by the severity of Darcy's looks and her own confused emotions to go with them.

Eventually the patience of the ladies' sitting inside the carriage wore thin. Caroline and Louisa were longing to be on the road to Town, and Eleanor was longing to be away from her sisters and in the comfort of her own home once more. Hurst snored, slumber his primary escape from the bores of his sister-in-law's facetious manners, and without the sound of the carriage lurching down the lane to drown him out, the sound of it was over-bearing. Caroline was eager to be away from Hertfordshire, and the dreaded society she had found there, and the delay in the journey was unpardonable.

It was not Caroline, however, who eventually made her way outdoors to exam what all the ruckus was about, but her sister, Louisa, who could no longer bear Caroline's whining, and her husband's rattle. Brushing off her skirts with an irritated huff, she clambered out from the carried to observe Mr. Darcy standing stiffly next to her brother, who was conversing with Eliza Bennet, of all people.

After being appraised of the situation, Louisa looked toward Elizabeth with more disdain than Caroline had ever managed to muster. Lizzy's eyes widened in surprise at the lady's cold look, unsure of what she had done to vex her so greatly. "Why this is some nonsense." Louisa said sharply. "Charles, you and Mr. Hurst can ride horse back, while Darcy and I see Miss Eliza back to Longbourne in the first carriage. It is but a short distance." Turning her sharp gaze to Lizzy she continued, saying, "Eliza, I will have no more excuses from you. We are off at once."

With her brisk tone, the plan was finally resolved on. Lizzy was tempted to refuse her out of pure spite. Where she could not outwardly reject Mr. Bingley's offer since it was so kindly meant, she had no actual qualms in resisting Louisa Hursts' heavy-handed attitude. Thinking of Jane, she resolved to be compliant. The superior sisters looked down on the Bennet family for many reasons, hurting Jane's prospects with Mr. Bingley greatly, and her own arrogance did not need to add to that. Avoiding the harsh lines of Darcy's face, his well worn letter clutched in her hand, she reluctantly allowed herself to be helped into the carriage, dirt coating the length of her gown.

The short ride to Longbourne was a tense affair. Mrs. Hurst made a perfunctory inquiry as to Elizabeth's health and that of her family, though they had met just the night before. Elizabeth responded with the proper answers, and then gave the necessary compliment to the lady on the success of the ball. Mrs. Hurst thanked her and pointedly looked out the window. Darcy said not a word, though his hand was balled into a fist with white knuckles. Frequently, Lizzy felt the weight of his gaze upon her, but whenever she roused the courage to look at him directly, his had was turned away. She began to wonder if she had imagined it entirely.

After what seemed a lifetime, the carriage pulled up the drive. Pleadingly, Elizabeth looked toward the sharp older woman, and the gentleman. "I thank you most kindly for the escort home, but I would beg you to leave me here. I do no mean to be impolite; I would be most happy to invite you both in for refreshments before you rejoin your party, but from my observations it has appeared that you are in a great hurry to be in Town, and I would not wish to delay your journey any further."

"You are not mistaken, Miss Eliza." Louisa responded without a hint of good humor. "We will be happy to leave you here. We are much delayed already, and I would not have it be more so."

"Good day Mrs. Hurst," Elizabeth replied, hastily pulling herself from the carriage. She glanced toward Darcy hesitantly. "Good day Mr. Darcy…thank you for your assistance."

Rich velvet eyes caressed her with a softness she had never expected him capable of expressing. "Goodbye, Miss Elizabeth." He said, in a stiff, low timbre.

Louisa Hurst's calculating eyes grazed over Darcy in a predatory stare. Without turning her head in acknowledgment, she said. "Good day to you Miss Eliza. Please send our regards to your family, especially dear Jane."

"Of course, thank you." Lizzy responded, her usual good humor twisting into an ugly scowl with the lady's rudeness.

Still watching her, Darcy's fist knocked rapidly on the roof of the carriage. "Drive on!" He called, his voice deep and troubled.

Elizabeth took several steps away from the carriage, to avoid any possibility of another accident in one day. Even as the carriage door shut and the horses began to trot down the lane, she felt Darcy's dark eyes staring into her, and despite the chill of the day, a warmth spread through her that began in the pit of her stomach and expanded through her the length of her body. Opening the letter once more, she read the quickly-worn document again as she made her way toward the entrance of Longbourne, and found herself hearing his tone differently than she had before.

With well-practiced precision, she walked on toward home without an upward glance. When she finally found herself standing in the foyer of Longbourne, she folded the letter carefully and concealed it in the folds of her dress, her brow furrowed in gentle confusion. Feeling sore and dirtied from her embarrassing fall, Elizabeth determined at once to make her way upstairs in order to change and rest before supper. Passing by the drawing room on her way, her mother's shrill voice called out to her to join her hence, and begrudgingly Elizabeth entered, knowing resistance was not worth the argument.

The sight before her instantly filled her with a sense of dread. Her mother, seemingly recovered from her over-indulgence at Netherfield, sat cozily with Mr. Collins and her sister, Kitty. Kitty's eyes were vacant, as if she had ceased paying any heed to the conversation at some point significantly earlier than Lizzy's entrance, but her mother was all aflutter with delighted expectations. The parson's ruddy face was as bright and shiny as an apple in the orchard on a sun-filled autumn afternoon, and round, fish-like eyes danced over her frame with eager interest.

Pointedly looking away from her erstwhile suitor, Lizzy did her best to encourage her mother on a topic of conversation that would interest her so much, she would be unable to leave Lizzy alone with her cousin for even a moment. However, with a daughter on the threshold of being proposed to, even talk of Mr. Bingley quitting Netherfield for London could not engage her. Fanny Bennet could only keep her head in the present, and she knew full well that her daughter was presently to be very soon made an offer for her hand. Watching her mother rise only a minute or two after Elizabeth made herself comfortable on the settee with some paltry excuse, the warmth from Darcy's presence instantly became an icy chill with Mr. Collins' look.

"Kitty," Elizabeth whispered softly to her sister as her mother stepped out of the room, "Kitty, please don't leave me."

Startled from her silent reverie, Kitty turned to her elder sister with wide, incredulous eyes. Whispering back, unheard by Mr. Collins due to the clergyman's self-indulgent prattle, she responded, "Why Lizzy, it's only Mr. Collins."

Elizabeth grasped her sister's hand, and Kitty squeezed it back with an immediate reaction to comfort her nervous sister, even though she was utterly perplexed by what was occurring. Suddenly Elizabeth stood to quit the room, but then Hill was in doorway, telling Kitty that she was needed upstairs, immediately. The good-natured housekeeper seemed nervous and exasperated, and Lizzy looked toward her with a plea for help as Kitty followed the older woman out the door.

Finding herself alone with Mr. Collins for the first time, it took all of Lizzy's self control not to shudder with revulsion. She opened her mouth to speak, to excuse herself and race from the room as fast as her legs would carry her, but before her lips could form a word, she found her hand grasped in the soft, clammy grasp of Mr. Collins' own. It happened so suddenly, Lizzy felt as if she was the deer and he was the hunter waiting for the perfect movement to take a shot. Attempting to her wrench her hand from his grasp she cried out, "Mr. Collins! You must release me!"

"Your modesty does you credit, my fair cousin!" Collins replied, falling to his knees before her and tightening his grip. "But surely my address can not take you by surprise!"

Elizabeth's hazel eyes sparkled with indignation. "Indeed it does sir!" She said with vehemence, twisting from him in a panicked frenzy, "I am most shocked!"

"I know for a fact that my addresses can not be ill desired by you!" Her cousin declared, placing a sloppy kiss on her wriggling hand, pulling her toward him with a strength Lizzy was shocked to find he possessed. "First," he cried with violent declaration, "allow me to the state my reasons for marrying! To start, I believe it is my duty, as a clergyman, to promote matrimony within my parish, and the most effective way to do so will be to lead by example. Secondly, I believe that the state of matrimony would increase my own sense of happiness in many areas. Lastly, which in fact is the most important reason I dare say, and perhaps should have been mentioned first, is that it was the particular advice of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourge. 'Mr. Collins,' said she, 'find yourself a wife, not born to high, but a gentlewoman for my sake, and I shall visit her.' And now dear cousin, I realize that you have no dowry, but I will never regret this fact when we are married."

Lizzy was unsure if the sensation she felt was the urge to cry, laugh, or become ill. Straightening her back and steeling her resolve, Lizzy finally managed to extract herself from her cousin's grip. "Sir," Elizabeth said with a firmness of purpose, "You forget that I have not yet made you an answer. I am honored by your addresses and I thank you for the compliment, but I could not possibly accept them."

Mr. Collins stood suddenly, wobbling on his feet. His ruddy complexion paled, and his fish eyes became even rounder in astonishment. With a sudden loss of the manners he so prided in himself, he spat out in astonishment, "Surely you do not mean to refuse me; another offer of marriage might never be made to you!"

It took all of Elizabeth's will power not to roll her eyes, "I am sorry to cause you pain, but you must not mistake my meaning, Mr. Collins. While I am honored by your proposal, I can not possibly accept it. The risk of receiving no other offer is one I shall have to take."

With this speech, Elizabeth curtseyed politely, and moved to exit the room. Scrambling on pudgy legs, her cousin blocked her only entrance. "You can not refuse me!" he said a touch hysterically, "You are not refusing me!"

"Please, Mr. Collins." Lizzy said with heavy sigh, her tone apologetic but firm. "I am not in the habit of tormenting respectable men. I am refusing you, as clearly and politely as I possibly can. Can I be even more clear in this matter?"

"While you have numerous personal charms, Elizabeth, the unhappy circumstance of your inheritance and connections leads me to believe that you can not possibly mean to reject my offer of marriage, but instead aim to heighten the violence of my affection by suspense!" He said with gusto, a self-congratulating smirk on his lips for explaining away her unsatisfactory response so nicely. "I am well aware of the usual manner of elegant females and will not be so easily dissuaded from my suit!"

Following her instincts, a vehement contradiction to Mr. Collins' words instantly formed her lips, but before she spoke, a glimmer of a conversation entered her mind. At Lucas Lodge some time previously, Mrs. Alcott had warned her that Mr. Collins was not a man to take rejection with good-humor. "Flatter him" she had said, and suddenly Elizabeth looked at her cousin and said, "Oh Mr. Collins! I am practicing no such artifice on you! You must believe me that I can not possibly accept you! Not when becoming your wife means ruining forever the happiness of a young lady I hold dear to my heart!"

For a full minute, it seemed as though the parson had not understood her meaning. Hesitantly, he finally spoke, saying, "What can you mean, cousin Elizabeth?"

Lizzy bit hard on her lip to prevent a laugh from escaping. Forcing herself to be the embodiment of solemnity she said, "I mean only this, I have long guarded my heart against you, because I know of another young lady's who's heart you already carry!"

"But who can this young lady possibly be!" Mr. Collins exclaimed musingly, his affections already moving from Elizabeth to this unknown entity.

"Surely you can not expect me to break the confidence of a woman who I hold dear. I will only tell you this. She is a Christian girl from a good family, neither young nor old, and she resides in the neighborhood."

"Indeed…" her cousin said, moving from his position in front of the doorway, in order to sit down with his thoughts. "You are most kind to tell me this, cousin Elizabeth. That you would give up your own chance of happiness in effort to see that your friend is content speaks very highly of you. It is most unselfish. I will pray to our savior that he brings you a suitor who only you can love."

"Thank you, cousin." Elizabeth said with a demure murmur, dropping into a curtsy, "You are most generous."

Slipping quickly from the room before Mr. Collins could make any more inquires into the mysterious woman who loved him from afar, Elizabeth raced up the stairs, determined to finally change from her soiled frock. So much had happened so quickly in the week that had passed, and she needed time to think and reflect on all that had occurred. Deftly tip-toeing past her mother's boudoir, she finally opened the door to the bedroom she shared with her sister Jane and released a long-held sigh.

Jane was laying on the bed, her hair carefully plaited, her slippers tucked neatly to the side. "Oh Lizzy," she said tiredly, propping herself up on the elbow to observe her favorite sister, "is something the matter?

Lizzy laughed, loudly and freely, her shoulders shaking in exasperated mirth. "Jane," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and beginning to undress, "I've just received an offer!"

"An offer!" Jane cried, sitting upright and looking at her sister with distressed crystalline eyes.

"Indeed, our cousin has solicited my hand!" Elizabeth said, her voice still holding onto the remnants of her giggle.

"I can not say I am surprised this day has come," Jane said softly, "but surely you did not accept him?"

"No indeed!" Lizzy cried, turning toward her sister to be unlaced. "How could I?"

"I am relieved to hear that, at least." She answered, loosening her sister's stays. "You came in with the most peculiar expression on your face that for a moment I feared for you. Oh Lizzy I would hate to see you bind yourself to man you did no love! But poor Mr. Collins, how is he handling your response?"

"Fairly well," Elizabeth said with smirk unseen to her sweet sister, "better than I had hoped for."

"That is a relief." Jane answered, surprised, "Is mother very upset?"

"As of this moment she is unaware, but I do not doubt that she will be." Turning to face her sister in her underclothes, Lizzy cried, "Jane so much has happened!"

"You speak truthfully, Lizzy. There is something that I must show you."

"And in return," Lizzy replied, "there is something that I must show you as well."

Elizabeth pulled Mr. Darcy's letter from the folds of her dress and handed it to Jane with shaking fingers. In return Jane handed her a short missive from Caroline Bingley, telling her that the entire Netherfield party had quit the country. In Caroline's typical manner, it was filled with facetious innuendo and cruel mind games, in a desperate ploy to convince Jane that Charles did not care for her. Having both seen and spoken to Mr. Bingley that very day, Lizzy was positive that Caroline's note was the grossest falsehood, but waited until Jane was done perusing Darcy's letter to share her thoughts on the subject.

When she finally finished reading, Jane glanced at her sister, her blue eyes full of sorrow. "Lizzy," Jane asked quietly, "do you believe all these terrible accusations are true?"

Elizabeth began to reply, but Jane continued, "No, they must be. Who would invent such a scandalous story, and involving his own sister too?"

Again Elizabeth tried to speak, but Jane cut her off, "It must be true." She said urgently, "But there is such an expression of goodness in Mr. Wickham's character. Perhaps it is all a grave misunderstanding?"

Lizzy frowned, placing a soft hand over Jane's own. "Oh my darling," She said with a gentle sigh, "How hard you strive to see the good in all people! But I believe that there is only enough goodness between them to make one good sort of man, and at this time, I'm inclined to believe the good man is Mr. Darcy, despite appearances."

"This is most distressing!" Jane exclaimed, glancing over the letter once more. "Poor Mr. Darcy!"

"You are quite right as always," Lizzy said with a touch of sadness, "poor Mr. Darcy…"

"And poor Wickham too!" Jane suddenly cried, "Perhaps he feels sorry now for what he has done, and wishes to reestablish his character!"

"Let us hope so," her sister ruefully replied, "I will hope, rather than believe that to be true." The pair paused for a moment, lost in their thoughts. Elizabeth finally addressed Jane saying, "There is one point which concerns me greatly. Should our general acquaintance be made aware of Mr. Wickham's character as we now see it?"

Jane's expression became very troubled, and she hesitated saying, "I am unsure Lizzy…"

"My feelings are that it ought not to be attempted. Mr. Darcy asked for secrecy, and then, who would believe it without using his letter as evidence? I will be on my guard around him, but I will not expose him." She interjected.

"I feel the same. In any case, if Mr. Wickham does indeed repent his actions, it would not due to make him desperate!"

"No indeed!" Lizzy said with a laugh, grasping her sister's hands. "Oh Jane, I wish I could think as well of people as you do!"

Jane laughed as well, blushing against the compliment, "No indeed Lizzy." She said, embarrassed.

Lizzy's smile faltered as she glanced down at the capricious missive in her hand. "As for the matter of the superior sisters' and your Mr. Bingley…well, I can assure you that Caroline Bingley is full of nonsense."

Jane's brow furrowed, and her smiling eyes became sad once more. "No, it is very clear to me that she believes her brother partial to Mr. Darcy's sister, and means very kindly to put me on my guard!"

"You are quite mistaken Jane!" Lizzy cried, angrily ripping the note in half, "I happened upon the entire party this very morning! I can assure you not only of Mr. Bingley's regard as I see it, but that he has promised this time in London will be of a short duration. By no means does he mean to pay court to anyone while he is there!"

The eldest Miss Bennet was confused as to how Lizzy could have seen her paramour on the same day she received a note that he had already left the country. Quickly recounting the embarrassing tale of her fall to Jane, Elizabeth quickly recounted how Mr. Bingley had promised to come to a family dinner, and made it clear that he would be returning in a very short amount of time.

Satisfied that the man she loved still held her in his regard, the two sisters laid down to rest before the evening meal. Jane slept soundly, never so thankful her sister had fallen in all her life, but Elizabeth's eyes remained open for a moment or two longer. "I can not bear to think that he is alive in the world and thinking ill of me…" She thought, slipping into dreams of dark brown eyes looking at her with cold contempt.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The dreary gray sky and biting cold of the late November day was doing nothing to improve Eleanor's mood. Since her husband had fled the country-side she had become increasingly distant and cold with her family, despite her best efforts to remain cheerful and optimistic. The child within her grew rapidly, and she felt the loss of the baby's father all too keenly. The winter season was beginning in earnest in London, but Eleanor knew that she would have little opportunity to take in the delights of Town as her confinement had to begin soon. As the carriage holding the three Bingley sisters made it's way through the narrow, cobbled lanes of the city, regret filled her for leaving Netherfield.

London was no place to have a child. Though the city afforded the most doctors and midwives, the noise, smells, and dirt of the capital made for an unpleasant and potentially dangerous place to house a newborn. Her first-born had been birthed at Halston, in the remote hills of Lincolnshire, and the air he breathed had been sweet and clean. Netherfield would have been ideal for having a child, the quiet and gay company of Hertfordshire would have supported her and welcomed her child with open arms. Close enough to Town should a specialist be needed, but far enough away that one thought little of the city while wandering it's wooded paths, she would have felt safe and comfortable there. She wanted to damn her melancholia, which had forced her to be silent when she would have normally spoken. Her child would be born in the Admiral's rented Town-home, the polluted fog of the city filling his lungs. She had been bested by Caroline's need for amusements and her selfish desire to keep Charles' from Jane Bennet's company, and listening to her two sisters talk while Hurst droned on in his sleep, a deep resentment began to fill the second-youngest Bingley sister.

"I long to be in London!" Caroline crooned, her ink-black hair hanging loose from hours of travel.

Louisa tutted, ignoring her husband's racket, "Too true, my dear! The country is always refreshing, but there is nothing to Town!"

The pair paused briefly, waiting to see if Eleanor would contribute to the conversation. She had been stubbornly silent throughout the length of the trip, claiming great fatigue, and was determined that she would not give in so close to home. With a small huff, Caroline continued, saying, "Refreshing for the air and the scenery perhaps, but I have certainly had my fill of country manners!"

The pair chortled, and Eleanor bit her lip in order to maintain her disinterested, but polite, silence. She was longing to be in the carriage with her brother and cousin-in-law, or with her governess and children, who were following from Netherfield in a separate coach. Children were always a nuisance to travel with, but at least their company was not full of facetious word play. She knew that somewhere in her heart she loved her sisters dearly, but the older they became and the more wealth the Bingley family acquired, the less she felt she knew them. With a small sigh, Eleanor rested her head against the seat, and did her best to fall asleep, but with the rattle of the carriage wheels, her brother in-law's heavy snores and her sisters' prattle, she doubted sleep would come.

The sisters continued on about the pleasures of Town for a small time, both sending furtive glances Eleanor's way, attempting to determine whether or not she truly slept. After seeing her chest rise and fall rhythmically for a brief time, Caroline became bold, but her voice dropped to a whisper lest her sleeping sister deceived them, she said, "Our plan is half-complete, Louisa, but I fear how we can prevent Charles from returning to Netherfield!"

With her sister's words, Louisa's features grew cross and hard. "If you want to ensure your position in society, Caro, you can not allow Charles to lower our status further."

With a hiss of annoyance, Caroline spat, "It is not my fault we are connected to trade!"

"No," Louisa replied, her voice cold, "nor is it Jane Bennet's fault the estate is entailed away to that cousin of theirs, or that she has relations who reside in Cheapside."

There was a hesitation, and then Caroline responded. "Jane Bennet is a dear, sweet, girl, and I mean that, truly."

"There can be no second opinion on that subject," Louisa agreed, "however, her family would an embarrassment to us should we have to claim the relation when out in society."

"Can you imagine the mother in London for the season!" Caroline laughed. "We must do everything in our power to prevent that at the very least!"

Her elder sister did not crack a smile. "Leave Charles to me. You must do everything in your power to secure Darcy!"

Eleanor, who had barely strayed into a half dream before being pulled back to reality by her sister's conversation, felt her ears perk with that statement. Secure Darcy? What could her sister be thinking by attempting the task! Surely she aimed too high, and she aimed blindly as well, for Darcy had never shown an interest in any one of the Bingley women.

Caroline's eyes flashed with irritation. "I am doing just that, and all proceeds well."

"Perhaps better now, if we can keep him away from Eliza Bennet." Louisa snapped.

There was a long, tense, silence. Finally Caroline spoke, icy venom seeping into every word. "You would do well to hold you tongue, sister. I am very fond of Darcy, and he more than meets my requirements for a husband, but I set my cap at him for _you. _You would do much better to speak kindly to me, and remember that it is I who am doing you a service, and not the other way around."

With their neighborhood coming into view, the pair fell silent, each dwelling on their own thoughts. Eleanor kept her eyes shut and her breathing even, feigning sleep for the rest of the journey, while her mind raced with the implication of her sisters' words. When the carriage finally arrived at the Admiral's London house, relief washed over her to be parting her sisters company. They made cordial goodbyes, knowing that they would see each other soon, and each in turn thinking that the separation would not be of a long enough duration to make them anticipate seeing the other again. Her brother and cousin-in-law, always the models of gentility, stopped their own coach in order to see her off properly, and to them her parting words were said with a deal more sincerity.

"Make haste to finish your business, Charles." Eleanor said, pressing her brother's hand in her own, "London can hold little charm for you at present."

Charles felt himself blush with his sister's words, a grin spreading across his lips despite his best effort to suppress it. "Indeed," he said, eyes laughing, "I have come to find that I care a great deal more for the country than town."

His friend's dark eyes flashed with irritation. "Do you truly Charles?" Darcy asked, his voice tight, "I would have thought you would find the company too confined and unvarying for your usual taste."

"Not at all," Charles quickly replied, his happiness ebbing somewhat under Darcy's scrutiny, "I find myself completely charmed by the country."

"Indeed," Darcy spat, his voice filling with steely resolve, "that is exactly what I have come to fear."

Eleanor frowned at her cousin-in-law's severity, wondering at its source. With a bow, he left them and returned to the carriage. Her twin looked at her with an apologetic shrug. "Darcy has seemed to be in a foul mood as of late."

"He is very young to bear the burden of all the responsibilities that he has, I grant him some reprieve from my judgment." His sister responded, her eyes full of worry, "Look after him, Charles." She added, "He was not born with the Bingley good-humor. He needs a friend like you to lighten his spirit when it becomes too heavy with worry."

Charles smiled warmly at his sister. "It is good of you to be concerned, Eleanor, but perhaps Darcy ought to find himself a wife that will lighten his foul moods herself! After some months in his company, I begin to weary of the task." With a laugh and a bow he was gone, off to the Darcy townhouse, with promises to call before he returned to Hertfordshire.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

With wry amusement, Charlotte Lucas observed her own situation. She had come to Longbourne to speak with Elizabeth and Jane about the happenings of the ball, as young ladies were want to do - only to discover the family in uproar. From Kitty and Lydia's whispers and giggles, she had managed to ascertain that their guest, and cousin, Reverend Collins, had made an offer for Elizabeth's hand, which had been refused by the young lady. Charlotte had been unsurprised by Lizzy's refusal, indeed, she had anticipated no other reply, but she was surprised that Elizabeth had taken Mrs. Alcott's advice from some weeks prior. Lizzy had convinced the parson that she refused his hand because she knew of a young lady who's affections her cousin held; but, despite his prying, Lizzy refused to give this mysterious woman up, claiming that she could not, as a Christian woman, break the promise she had made to keep her identity anonymous.

Collins, baffled, delighted, and flattered that a young lady would fall so violently in love with him through no effort on his part, was in a frenzy to discover just who this young woman was, so that he could make her his wife. Since he was due to leave Hertfordshire in the coming week, he had little time to think, and made it his course to act. Through the course of the afternoon, each one of the Bennet sisters found her hand being applied for by Mr. Collins. Each sister had reacted differently; Jane had kindly and gently refused his hand, Kitty had been utterly mortified and only shaken her head against his offer before quitting the room, and Lydia had laughed uproariously and ungraciously, fat tears of merriment sliding down her cheeks at the idea of Collins ever wanting to marry her, let alone his believing that there was a possibility of her _ever_ accepting him. Mary, quiet, moralizing Mary, had come very close to accepting her cousin's hand, not from any affection for him, but from the belief that had been instilled in her through a worrisome mother and teasing sisters that she was plain and could do no better. When Collins asked if she was the young woman Elizabeth had spoken of, who held him so close to her heart, she could not bring herself to lie. She did not feel sad to have lost him to a mystery woman of the neighborhood, but only hoped that when next such a man came to Hertfordshire, all the eligible young women had married already.

With Mrs. Bennet's shrieks of dismay rattling the windows, a perplexed Charlotte had taken it upon herself to invite the parson to Lucas Lodge for supper. That Mr. Collins should quit Longbourne for a small duration seemed to the mutual wish of both the guest and his hosts, excluding the Bennet family matriarch. As Mr. Collins walked with her toward Lucas Lodge, Charlotte felt her stomach twist into knots at the plan that had formed in her mind. She was seven and twenty, and if not yet considered an old maid, she knew that she was well on her way to becoming one. She had recommended to Elizabeth once that Jane secure Mr. Bingley's feelings by showing more affection than she felt, and Charlotte knew that if she wished it, she could secure Mr. Collins with a few smiles and turns of phrase. He had proposed to five women in one day without securing a partner for his future life, and his desperation meant that he would be happy to have the acceptance of any lady.

But now that the moment was upon her, Mr. Collins on his knees before her, his ruddy face dripping with anxious sweat, his round eyes looking about with frantic abandon, she found that she could not bring herself to commit to a life with this man. He was a kind person, and would give her a comfortable life, that was sure, but a thought kept repeating in her mind like a mantra. "Am I so desperate," she inwardly mused, "that I would accept a man who has been rejected by five other ladies?

Charlotte frowned, unsure of her own feelings. She was reluctant to reject him out of hand, lest Mr. Collins be the only offer of marriage she ever received, and yet she could not bring herself to accept his offer either. "I am greatly honored by your proposal Mr. Collins, and most definitely flattered by your warm and gentlemanly attentions; however, I can not deceive you, I am not the young lady of whom Miss Elizabeth spoke."

Crestfallen, Collins exclaimed, "I begin to wonder if I shall ever find her - this young woman who's fancy I have captured." Blushing, he continued, "I am well aware that while our Almighty Lord has granted me many blessings, physical beauty was not among them. I know that even the best and most Christian young ladies can be more inclined toward looks than virtues when selecting a mate, and I have schooled myself to make up for my deficiencies by being as pleasing and attentive a gentleman as I possibly can be. While my position in life now makes me a desirable husband, thanks to my benefactress, Lady Catherine Debourge, I have had very little luck in my romantic endeavors. You can imagine, Miss Lucas, how hard it is for me to imagine that there can be such a young woman who cares for me amongst the ladies of Hertfordshire, and yet cousin Elizabeth tells me that it is so."

Having been called plain so many times in her life that she had ceased to keep count, Charlotte's heart went out to a man who knew the pain that a lack of beauty could bring. It was undoubtedly harder on a woman, especially if she had little but her charms to recommend her, but to be rejected out of hand by women due to a pink face and a stout figure seemed unfair to the eldest Miss Lucas. Mr. Collins was somewhat ridiculous, that was obvious to her, but as she began to imagine a life with Mr. Collins, the picture became more and more appealing.

Charlotte knew that she was uncommonly well-educated for a woman of her situation, and she had natural intelligence that had encouraged her to build the skills she would need. Mr. Collins was the rector of a comfortable parish, and would one day be master of Longbourne. To be his wife, and thusly, mistress of that estate, meant that she would be able to be near her family as they grew older. Although she would not return to Lucas Lodge as an occupant, Longbourne had been a second home to her growing up. Despite what she could imagine Mrs. Bennet saying when she heard that Charlotte was to one day replace her, she would never leave the Bennet family to starve in the hedgerows. If none of the Bennet sisters married well, Charlotte would provide for them as if she was a member of the family, for as long as she had lived, she had been amongst them. She would be able to do this because the Collins' would live a prudent, quiet life, never exceeding their income.

Looking down at where Mr. Collins kneeled, his flushed complexion heightened by the stress of the day, Charlotte felt a sense of companionship within her. Mr. Collins was not a sensible fellow, to be sure, but he had a good deal more self-awareness than any of the county had given him credit for. He would be a respectful and attentive husband who would see to all her needs. She would have a comfortable home and secure future, which is more than what many women received from a marriage. Her eyes scanning over his person, Charlotte wondered if perhaps she could influence his manners into something more pleasing for all. He was not a stupid man, but he unwittingly presented himself in a rather stupid fashion.

Smiling at him, Charlotte finally spoke, saying, "Mr. Collins, I can not bring myself to lie to you. I may not be the young woman of whom Miss Elizabeth spoke. I do not know if such a woman exists or not. All I can speak of is the here and now. You have made me an offer of marriage, and if you will still have me, despite not being the mysterious admirer Elizabeth spoke to you of, I would be very happy to accept your hand."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Walking along the empty halls of the Admiral's town-house, Eleanor felt a pang of loneliness within her breast. She loved her husband dearly, and the time apart from him had been exhausting for her. She missed her son daily, and felt a rage within her at the thought that the Admiral had unceremoniously robbed her of him, and yet, because she loved her husband, and because she understood him, she could not hold onto the anger inside her. More than anything else, she wanted them both with her in that moment.

Eleanor gave directions to the skeletal staff to begin reopening the house for the season. If they were surprised to see her there, they gave no indication, but merely welcomed the mistress home and began their preparations. Despite many invitations by the house keeper to rest, to have a cup of tea or a bite to eat, Eleanor was listless and found herself roaming the corridors aimlessly. It had not been her decision to come to London, but she had known it would be foolishness to stay on at Netherfield by herself, despite Charles' expressed intention of returning to his country home. There would be much to distract him town, and no matter how deeply he was invested in his courtship of Jane Bennet, she knew that he would stay in the city longer than the few days he had intended. She only hoped that it would not be as long as Caroline anticipated.

Thinking of her pair of scheming sisters, disgust filled her and flowed through her veins with speed. While it had never surprised Eleanor to see Caroline, or any of her other sisters, making a fool of herself over Darcy, it did shock her to know how low her sibling would sink in order to collect her prey. Louisa's angle in Caroline's seduction attempt was especially disconcerting, for what stake could she have in it? Louisa had married into a respectable and wealthy family, casting off the Bingley association for trade and replacing it with a husband from the landed gentry. While marriage to Darcy would connect the Bingley family to the aristocracy through his relations, their sister, the Baroness, and Eleanor's own connection to the second son of a knight did the same; Eleanor could see little other advantage that Louisa could possibly gain from her sister making such a match.

Dwelling on the matter, Eleanor found herself inside the study of the home, deep in thought. While the room had expressly been decorated to John's specifications, he spent relatively little time there while he was in town. Biting her lip, Eleanor raced from the entrance way to the desk, and finding it in good order, she sat down her mind racing. First, she wrote a brief note to her dear friend, Lady Macintyre informing her of her arrival in town, and asking her to call at her soonest availability. Being in the family way, Eleanor knew better than to leave the house and call on her friend, not in London, where the rules of society were to be followed perfectly.

Following the note, she wrote to the friends she had left behind in Hertfordshire, the eldest Miss Bennets, and Miss Charlotte Lucas. Knowing how eager her sisters were to end the Bingley acquaintance with the occupants of Hertfordshire, Eleanor became even more eager to maintain the friendship then she would have been ordinarily. Forcing cheer and good-humor to flow from her pen and onto paper, she inquired into the affairs of Meryton and health of everyone she knew there, before filling the paper with all the delights of town. Then, with sudden inspiration, Eleanor dipped her pen in the ink-well and included one last lane:

_To the eldest Miss Bennets I must ask a favor. As you may, or may not, be aware of, I am with child at present. With my younger sister newly married, and my elder sisters keeping house for my brother, I have no female companionship for my confinement. I know that we have only known one-another a short while, but in our brief acquaintance I have become especially fond of you both. I would lock neither of you away from society as I am, but would ensure that you both get to take in all the pleasures of London during the season, properly chaperoned, of course. _

With a self-satisfied smirk, Eleanor addressed the letter and set it aside. Louisa and Caroline were determined to keep Charles out of Netherfield, they had made that much apparent. They plotted in order to ensure their own happiness, but Eleanor plotted to ensure that of her brother's. Feeling generous and well-pleased with herself, she took it upon herself to write one last letter, this one headed for Lincolnshire.

_John,_

_I can not pretend that your abrupt departure did not fill me with rage and bitterness, nor do I give in to the subject of our argument. While your brother lives and breathes, there is still hope for an heir, and it is unfair to fill our son's head with the idea that he is entitled to property and riches that are not yet his. He is also still very young to be long separated from his mother, or his brother and sister. _

_The reason I write, however, is in order to beg you to come home. Not so I can lord over you in triumphant that my argument was correct, but so that I may see your smiling eyes looking at me, so that I can hear the warmth in your voice, so I can feel the touch of your skin against mine. We are flawed individuals, you and I, and as much as you may hurt me and disappoint me, I love you still. I miss you, and our son, with a terrible pain. I reside in London at present, and I beg you to make haste and meet me here._

_Yours in love, yours in anger_

_Eleanor_

**o0o0o0o0o**

John's time at Halston passed quickly. After Andrew's reprimand, he chose to stay only one day at his childhood home, in order to call on some of the principal families of the neighborhood. Though well-liked and admired everywhere he went, for both his own personal charms and his well-known naval record, he had never before given much though to currying favor with the people in Lincolnshire. Now that he knew his son was legally bound to inherit, he had realized the importance of cultivating those relationships. Until John II was of-age, it would be the Admiral's place to care for Halston, and he wanted to honor his son in doing it.

On the second morning of his arrival home, John Alcott and his son were on the road once more. Though the horses surely required more rest, but Andrew had filled his younger brother with such a longing for his wife that he was determined to make haste back to Hertfordshire. Since he traveled with his young son, he planned to stop at his town-house to rest, before heading directly back to Netherfield. Little John slept soundly, but his namesake sat awake, his mind filled with thoughts of his wife.

He could not wait to be home.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **_1.) A very big thank you goes out to my reviewers for Chapter 7, especially YepItsMe. Reviews are absolutely fabulous as you all know, but the people that review every chapter really make your heart happy. Its good to know there is someone out there who is definitely reading and looking forward to your work. I've known the pain of loving a story and checking for a new chapter every day only to be disappointed, and thinking (in my own head anyway) that someone out there is doing the same thing to this story is a huge motivation for me to get my butt into gear. And please guys, the more constructive criticism, the better! I wanna know your thoughts!_

_I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out to you. I know that this was the shortest chapter by far, and that's because it's pretty much a filler/transition chapter, somehow we have to move the action of the story from Hertfordshire to London, and let's face it, a coach ride isn't exactly a bundle of thrills. Also this chapter decided it wanted a few extra scenes thrown in before I was ready to post it that HAD to be written, ie Eleanor's goodbye with Darcy & Bingley, and Charlotte's scene with Mr. Collins. Despite the feeling that I HAD to include these scenes and rewrite what I had orginally, for some reason my creative juices just were not flowing._


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes: **_Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews! You have no idea how much it means to me. This story has grown up along with me, and to see all the position feeback it is getting is wonderful. I remember when I first posted this story on ff . net back in 2004, there were only around 125 stories for the entire Jane Austen section, and now Pride and Prejudice has a section of it's own! It's really awesome to see all the great ideas out there, and how much the community has grown. _

_Once again, I do apologize for the delay, I'm finishing up my first term at school, and my education has been my absolute number one priority these last few weeks. I fully intend to have the next chapter up by the end of the month, and another following in early July, so hold tight and bear with me! Be sure to review and help me get my butt into gear!_

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Fanny Bennet had the very good fortune to marry into the gentry at a young age. When she married, only eighteen years old, she had been a sweet young woman with few cares in the world. Her husband had warned her that without a male heir the estate would be lost to her after his death, but they had little reason to fear, for both husband and wife were convinced that conceiving a son would be a simple task. Regrettably, they had been mistaken, and despite successfully rearing five children, they had no son to inherit Longbourne. For years, Fanny had worried about the future of her family, pinning all her hopes on one of her daughters making a spectacularly good match, but living in a quiet country village had given them little opportunity to be exposed to wealthy young men. As her girls grew older, her vexations only increased, as her eldest was four and twenty, and still unmarried.

Then one glorious day, a savior appeared in Fanny Bennet's life. She had never expected the answer to all her prayers to have a blotchy complexion, wide eyes, and a round belly, but Mrs. Bennet knew that God worked in mysterious ways. When Mr. Collins, the odious heir to Longbourne, had come to visit, the mistress of the estate had been determined to hate him. She had not expected to find him eager to make amends to her and her family by marrying one of her daughters! Surely such a man had been heaven sent! To have one of her own girls as the future mistress of Longbourne meant that she could finally live in comfort and peace. With their home secured, the remaining daughters would be able to marry as they liked, without having to think of their family over their own happiness. Fanny had been slightly dismayed when Mr. Collins showed an inclination toward Elizabeth after being informed that her eldest was daughter had a suitor, but not disheartened. Surely even head-strong Lizzy would understand that some sacrifices were necessary for the good of the family.

When Mr. Collins calmly informed his host of Elizabeth's refusal, Mrs. Bennet had been incensed, but as a mother, not wholly surprised. She knew that Lizzy could hardly tolerate the clergyman, but thought that her sense of duty would outweigh her distaste for the gentleman. At the very least, she had assumed that her second daughter could be reasoned with, especially if she was able to gather her husband's support. What she had not been expecting was Mr. Collins' second piece of information - that Elizabeth refused her cousin because she knew of a young lady who was attached to him. Though Lizzy was as full of nonsense as her father, and was known to exaggerate on occasion, Fanny knew that her daughter was not one to create idle tales that lacked foundation. She was certain, and furious, that there was a grain of truth in the rumor her daughter was spreading.

That Mr. Collins should take this information from Elizabeth, and then use it subsequently propose to all of her daughters, even Jane, who she had warned him was very soon to be engaged, seemed preposterous to her. Overhearing him make his addresses to Kitty, Fanny felt her anger with Elizabeth dissipate. If one of her daughters became Mr. Collins' bride, she could forgive the rest for refusing him. She had felt certain that one of her daughters was bound to accept the man; she knew that the girls were well informed of their desperate situation, for she reminded them of it daily!

Despite everything, Fanny Bennet found herself in the foyer of Longbourne, the door agape despite the November chill, watching as Mr. Collins crossed the lane with Charlotte Lucas on his arm. It was a day that would live in infamy in Fanny's mind - the day on which every single one of her daughters had received an offer, and none of them had accepted. She was so shocked by the turn of events that for the course of the evening, while Mr. Collins supped with the Lucas family, she had kept her thoughts to herself, the calm before the storm. The sisters avoided their mother, keeping to their rooms, even the silliest knowing that they did not want to be on the receiving end of her fury, when she released it.

And release it she did, at the breakfast table the very next morning. Each girl had thought that their mother had an odd expression on her face as they sat down, and Lydia, being the most thoughtless of the lot, felt it her place to comment upon it, saying, "Mama, you look most peculiar, surely you are not upset that we refused Mr. Collins?"

Mr. Bennet immediately stood, not relishing in prospect of hearing his wife's shrill tones so early in the morning. He had made it a habit to happily ignore most of what she said, and he had become quite proficient at the task, but Edward Bennet was not fool enough to believe he would be able to block this particular dialogue from reaching his ears. Seeing him rise, Fanny glowered. "Perhaps you think this is all a great joke, Mr. Bennet, I know you have no compassion for my poor nerves. But you will sit and you will hear me, silly as you may find it!"

"You are quite mistaken my dear," Mr. Bennet said, as abashed as he would allow himself to be, "I have a great respect for your nerves, I have seen their effect on our lives some twenty years at least."

"Sit down!" Fanny cried vehemently.

With a sarcastic nod of deference, Edward took his seat. "As you wish, my dear." He replied with wry amusement.

Seeing her family look toward her place at the breakfast table with apprehension, Mrs. Bennet felt a small sense of accomplishment for having subdued them so thoroughly. Her face pinched into an expression of anger, and her eyes darted on each of her daughters with cold displeasure. "Never in my life," she began, her voice rising into hysteria with her first syllable, "have I seen daughters behave with such ingratitude! Perhaps I have been too indulgent, and have not properly taught you your most valuable lesson. Marriage is your duty! Or can it be that my daughters forget what I can not? When your father dies, we will receive next to nothing for this estate. Longbourne will no longer be our home, we will fall to the mercy of Mr. Collins! Longbourne is to be his - not ours! You girls have nothing but your charms to recommend you, and Mr. Collins would have married any one of you out of Christian duty. If you had accepted him, we would not be sent to starve in the hedgerows, we would have been provided for! You could have been mistress of your own home, where you were weaned and raised! Very few are so lucky as to have that!"

"Mama," interjected Jane quietly, "I am sure I speak for all of my sisters when I say that it was not our aim to displease you. Mr. Collins is a very good man, but I do not love him, and he does not love me."

"Oh yes it was! You have all been obstinate, head-strong children from birth! If only I could have had sons!" Mrs. Bennet cried with plaintive sobs.

"It was certainly not their choice to be born female, my dear." Mr. Bennet said with a wink to his favorite daughter.

"Mama, you have encouraged me to welcome Mr. Bingley's attentions for some time, would you have me forget him as soon as another gentleman made me an offer?" Jane asked with the softest hint of irritation in her voice.

All eyes turned to Jane in astonishment. It was perhaps the most confrontational thing she had said in the course of her lifetime. Seeing this reaction from her most docile daughter, Mrs. Bennet's passions were only further enflamed. "Mr. Bingley has left the country! He has abandoned us to starvation, and his attentions have all come to nothing! I do not blame you wholly, my poor Jane, but I do blame your sister Elizabeth for this most unattractive demeanor you are displaying to me this morning!"

"Me!" Lizzy cried with an astonished laugh, "What have I done to deserve such praise and such censure?"

"There is nothing of praise in my sentiment, young woman!" Mrs. Bennet hotly declared.

"Perhaps not in your sentiment, Mama, but I would call any credit in Jane's change of demeanor praise! It is undeserved praise, for I have done nothing to bring about this transformation, but to see my sister stand up for herself is a pleasure!" Lizzy answered, calmly spreading jam across a slice of warm toast.

"You are at the heart of this rebellion, Elizabeth!" Mrs. Bennet screamed, her hands gesticulating wildly in the air before her. "If you had accepted Mr. Collins as was your duty, none of your sisters would have been encouraged to refuse him!"

"Indeed not," Mr. Bennet spoke with false gravity, "for if Lizzy had accepted him, he certainly would have not made an offer to any of the other girls."

"Precisely!" His wife cried with unmerited triumph.

From her seat, Lydia snorted. "La! What a joke, Mama! I don't know about Kitty or Mary, but I for one did not need Lizzy's example to give me the courage to refuse him! What a bore he is! Inheritance or not, I shall not marry for a man who wears any other than a red coat!"

Following her younger sister's lead, Kitty found her voice. "No, nor I Mama!"

Mary frowned with severity. "I, for my own part, would find the position of a clergyman's wife to be perfectly situated to my desires. I have no wish for a great income as I have little interest in the frivolities in which most ladies indulge. I would have accepted Mr. Collins' offer, but when he inquired as to whether or not I was the young lady of the neighborhood who's heart he had inadvertently captured, I found that I could not deceive him. My heart has certainly not been captured, nor is it likely that it ever shall be."

"What a laugh!" Lydia exclaimed before Mrs. Bennet had a chance to open her mouth, "Mary, even you could fare better than Mr. Collins!"

"I think," Mr. Bennet said, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his sardonic eyes, "that our daughters have been quite clear on the subject Mrs. Bennet. None of our girls were inclined toward their cousin, only one of them even gave a thought to consenting to the match, and as that half-formed thought never came to fruition, there is no understanding between my heir and any of my daughters. Now, as I would have refused my consent as it is, and only Jane and Lizzy are of age, and both rejected his offer, my younger daughters would have all been protected from him by me, should they have been silly enough to have said yes."

"Refuse your consent! What could be your meaning, Mr. Bennet!" His wife cried with frenzy.

"Only this, Mrs. Bennet; I have already been cursed to name some of my daughters the three silliest girls in all of England. I adamantly refuse to claim the silliest man in the country as my son! I will not allow it!"

"Now Mr. Collins is bound to hate us all! He will throw us out of our home before your father is cold in his grave! Think of that!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed with dismay. "You have no compassion for my nerves! You are all in a plot against me, to see me old before my time. I will not have it! The stress you cause me!" She moaned mournfully.

"Oh Mama," Jane said, her gentle nature overpowering her annoyance, "you ought not to vex yourself so. Come, I will take you upstairs, you ought to rest, your emotions are exhausting you." Crossing the room, Jane took her mother's hand. Looking at her favorite daughter, Mrs. Bennet felt some of her anger slip away.

"Oh I am exhausted," she said, taking on all the airs of a martyr. "Oh my dear Jane, I am weary to my very bone. I have such spasms in my side and pains in my head that I can get no rest, neither night or day." She rose, and taking Jane's proffered arm as if she was in the height of her old age, she said with a whimper, "If only I had sons!"

Patting her hand sympathetically, Jane led her mother from the room. As soon as the pair was out of earshot, Mr. Bennet turned toward his second eldest with a droll smile. "Well," he said conversationally, "that was quite enough excitement for one morning I should think."

Lizzy laughed and continued to eat her breakfast. After a few moments silence while the remaining Bennets began to eat their morning meal, Lydia frowned and suddenly said, "My goodness. Where has Mr. Collins been during all this fuss!"

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Darcy woke early in the day, his purpose firm in his mind. The previous evening, his dreams had been full of laughing hazel eyes looking up at him. He had never imagined that he would be in such danger when confronted with a country girl with pert opinions and a pleasing physique, but despite removing himself from her presence, she had haunted him all the way to London. He was now determined that he could never return to Hertfordshire, lest he fall all the way in with a single glance at the wood-sprite who disguised herself as Elizabeth Bennet. No other explanation for her enchantment on him fit, as he knew it had been most unwittingly done by her. The attraction had largely begun due to her lack of interest, and now he felt doomed to think of her for a lifetime.

Darcy silently cursed the circumstances of fate that had lead him to this crossroad in his life. He knew that if the Bennet family was just slightly more well-off, and displayed the proper propriety, nothing could have torn him from Elizabeth's side. As it was, the family was barely managed to include itself in the gentlemen's class, and the behavior of the mother, the younger sisters, and even occasionally, the father, was reprehensible.

Though the Admiral had advised Darcy to stop considering the dictates of his family when selecting a wife, they subconsciously affected his every decision. While he prided himself on being a person of strong character and keen intelligence, thoroughly capable of making his own decisions, the lessons that his relations had taught him were ingrained in his psyche. The Bennet family, with their want of propriety, and their connections to trade, were inherently beneath him from what he had learned. Thusly any daughter they could offer him in matrimony was also beneath him, in his view point. Rather than judging the qualities of a potential wife based on the attributes of the woman in question, he was allowing his prejudice to guide him, overruling his heart's desire.

Darcy worried for his friend. Charles seemed determined to connect himself to a family who could offer him nothing by way of connections. The mother was clearly mercenary, and the potential bride, the eldest Miss Bennet, was so reserved with her emotions that it was impossible to tell how she really felt. Though she seemed pleased with the attention Bingley showed her, her heart did not seem to be touched, she treated him with the same kind-hearted civility which she showed everyone. The previous evening, he had tried to show Charles all the reasons why Jane Bennet made an unsuitable candidate for a wife, but his friend had deftly side-stepped all the issues of the Bennet family.

A mercenary mother was expected, in his eyes all mothers were mercenary, and considering the state of the Bennet entail, he did not find that he could blame Mrs. Bennet for wanting her daughters to make good matches. Their propriety was an irritation, but nothing that he could not tolerate. If the company of Mrs. Bennet became unbearable, he could give up Netherfield and lease another estate, somewhere further away from Hertfordshire. The younger girls he wrote off as having an excess of good humor. Even the connections to trade did not bother him, the Bingley fortune had come from trade, and just because they had become wealthy did not mean that he had become so high and mighty as to forget his roots.

No, Bingley would not be deterred and was set on returning to Hertfordshire in two days time, a proposal at the ready. Louisa and Caroline had been eager to assist Darcy in pointing out the many flaws of Jane Bennet, but the conversation had gotten them nowhere. Making his way down the steps to have breakfast, Darcy felt a tug on his conscious. He knew what he must do in order to separate his friend from his connections to Hertfordshire, but part of him was loathe to do it.

Bolstering his courage, the master of Pemberley told himself that if Miss Bennet had truly been in love with his friend, she ought to have shown it somehow. Reaching the table where Bingley sat alone, his sisters being abnormally late sleepers, Darcy felt his nerves take over. He did not want to see his friend hurt, but he could not bear the idea of Charles connecting himself with that family, in the chance that Darcy would find himself in _her_ company again. And beside, he was certain, absolutely certain, that Miss Bennet only encouraged his friend's attentions because her mother urged her to….her heart was not touched. He was doing what was right for his friend…

"Good morning Darcy!" called Charles, jovially, enthusiastic even first thing in the morning.

"Charles, I believe Miss Bennet is indifferent to you!" He blurted out in a rush, his usual poise and dignity breaking down with the violence of his emotion.

"I…I beg your pardon?" Bingley asked, baffled by the odd manner of his friend.

"I have been reluctant to speak on this subject, because I am no expert on matters of the heart. I intended to steer you away from Jane Bennet based off of her family connections, but I see that you will not be dissuaded by that subject. The real reason I believe you should desist in your pursuit of her is because I believe she is indifferent toward you - we both know her mother has been eyeing you for your fortune since you arrived in the neighborhood, and I believe that while Miss Bennet is not mercenary herself, her heart is not easily touched, and should you request her hand, she may accept you do to pressure from her mother, and not from her own inclination."

Charles frowned, deeply troubled by his friend's speech. Darcy had never lied to him, and only ever gave his opinion unasked when he deemed it of the utmost importance, so the younger gentleman took his declaration very seriously. He had felt so certain that Miss Bennet had held the same tender regard for him that he held for her, but she was always so polite and decorous that it was sometimes very hard to read her feelings. "Are you quite certain, Darcy?" Charles hesitantly asked.

Fitzwilliam Darcy felt a pang of guilt hit him with force, but immediately repressed the emotion. While he could consciously admit that he did have an ulterior motive in keeping Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley apart, he had so talked himself into the fact that Miss Bennet was indifferent to his friend that he now knew that as his only truth. "From my observations, it seems that she holds no peculiar regard for you, but treats you as she does all others. I can not pretend to know the extent of Miss Bennet's mind, but from what I have seen, I have not witnessed her granting you any special favors, or treating you any differently than she does any other gentleman of her acquaintance."

Charles Bingley swallowed with difficulty. Growing pale and withdrawn before Darcy's eyes, he said quietly, "Thank you for telling me this, my friend. You have given me much to think of."

Charles stood and quit the room, his breakfast forgotten, and Darcy filled his plate with a sense of self-loathing that he could not shake.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Being the eldest daughter of a large family, Charlotte always rose with the dawn. While her mother, Lady Lucas, received the title of being the mistress of Lucas Lodge, much of the actual work the title entailed fell onto her daughters; the brunt of this labor on Charlotte specifically. As she grew older, she found that she had grown from resenting the burden to enjoying it immensely. As a single, soon-to-be-spinster, she knew that she had to make herself as useful as possible in order to alleviate some of the hardship her family endured for having their daughter still unmarried. In time she had gone from simply doing the minimum required of her in every task to becoming a great proficient, and every time Sir Lucas and his steward did the books, they became more and more pleased with the eldest daughter's shrewd and prudent decisions.

Awake before the rest of her family and the majority of the household staff, Charlotte found herself utterly alone when Mr. Collins came to call. Her hair remained unbound, for Charlotte had been loathe to disturb her maid so early, especially when she was simply planning her day and reviewing cook's menu. Blushing furiously as her fiancé was admitted into the parlor, Charlotte attempted to chastise him for calling so early.

"Mr. Collins, how could you have known that I would be awake so early?" She asked, her fingers running through long, brown hair and braiding it with alacrity.

For his part, the parson could hardly bring himself to form a word. When he had proposed to Charlotte he had found her to be a rather plain creature, certainly nothing to his cousin Elizabeth, who's fine person inspired ungentlemanly thoughts in his mind; but seeing her fresh faced after a restful night's sleep, the pale glow of candlelight and early morning sunlight dancing across a creamy complexion, made him see his intended in an entirely new manner. It was the hair however, that did him in. Having no sisters, and few memories of his mother, who had died when he was young, William Collins had never before had the unique privilege or pleasure of seeing a woman with her hair unbound. When he first entered the room, Charlotte's tresses flowed freely down her back, chestnut and honey strands hanging loose, as the Lord had intended them.

With a low bow, Collins took a step toward his betrothed. "Surely," he breathed, his face unusually pink-cheeked from embarrassment and arousal, "this is how Adam must have felt when the Almighty Lord first presented him with Eve."

Though Charlotte was sure that her face was now quite crimson with mortification, she felt a small wave of pleasure course through her veins. Normally she would have felt the urge to laugh at such a trite compliment, doubting it's sincerity, but the earnest expression in the reverend's eyes made it impossible to shake it off as a joke. Never before had a man made Charlotte feel beautiful or desirable, and though she knew that Mr. Collins had not been her first choice of a husband, she was quickly learning to regret her decision less and less. It was plain on his face that Mr. Collins was looking at her in _that _way, the way she been secretly longing for a man to look at her for more years than she could count; the way a man was meant to look at a woman.

The air between them became oppressive as the pair gazed at one another in turn. Finally, Collins brought himself to speak, though the look in his eyes did not change. "Forgive my intrusion, my dearest Charlotte, I found that I was filled all night with restless anticipation to see you once more, and I have heard you mention your habits of being an early riser in the past." He swallowed visibly, attempting to regain his sense through conversation. Charlotte looked at him with a small smile that he found pleasantly disconcerting. "I too, rise quickly. My noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, has always recommended that is in my best interest to awake with the dawn, for a good nights sleep and a productive day make for the most healthy of lifestyles…" The parson trailed off, unable to keep his train of thought with the realization that he and his intended were utterly alone in her little parlor, and would remain undisturbed for some time.

"I enjoy the peace and quiet of the house before my family is stirring." She responded, matching his step with one of her own, shortening the gap between them.

"Perhaps I ought not to have come until the appointed hour of my meeting with your father." Collins said, his feet routed to the spot despite his word's intentions, "It is not fitting for me to be here with you, with no chaperone."

"No," Charlotte agreed, her eyes smiling at him warmly, "it is not fitting at all, but that does not mean the visit was unwelcome."

With a heady sense of boldness filling him that he had never experienced before, William Collins closed the space between himself and his intended, placing a chaste, hesitant kiss on her pink lips. Both blushing furiously as he pulled away, the clergyman instantly began to beg her forgiveness. "I am sorry for taking liberties, Miss Lucas, please understand that I meant no disrespect by such a gesture, only I was filled with such a longing to kiss you when you looked at me with such kindness that I could not stop myself from the action. I will understand completely if you no longer consider me to be a gentleman worthy of your hand for my breach in propriety."

As Mr. Collins continued to lament his actions and beg for her mercy, Charlotte smiled at her future husband, her grin spreading full stop across her face. Seeing that she would be able to get no word in edgewise if she waited politely for the gentleman to finish his speech, she leaned forward and closed the distance between them once more. The parson's wide eyes became as round as saucers with his fiancé's bold action, but his heart beat wildly in his chest.

Pulling from his embrace, Charlotte said with tenderness, "I assure you Mr. Collins, no liberty was taken that my heart did not consent to. While it is best that you return to Longbourne with haste, know that I reluctantly see you quit my company."

"You are all that is goodness and generosity, my dear." He replied, taking her hand and pressing a gentlemanly kiss against her knuckle. "I will leave you now, but I must tell you this before I go. I am due back in Hunsford by the week's end. Can you agree to a short engagement? I will wish to bring you to Kent as soon as the bans are read."

"I would be most happy to consent to a short engagement, sir. In fact, I am very desirous of a brief betrothal. I have waited all my life to be a wife, and now that I am affianced, I find that I am eager to make that dream a reality." She responded, unable and unwilling to contain her happy smile.

"By no means would I suspend any pleasure of yours, my darling Charlotte." Mr. Collins said with a low, deferential bow. "Good day to you, my beloved."

"Good day, William." She said softly, dropping into a curtsy. "Until we meet again."

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

The course of the next several days passed very strangely for the Bennet family. In her agony at her daughters' betrayal, Mrs. Bennet had been determined to keep to her boudoir, creating as much trouble and drama as she possibly could. When Lady Lucas had come to call with news of her daughter's engagement, the last straw had been reached. Fanny Bennet had never been so livid in her entire life. After berating her girls and her husband at some length, despairing for them and all and their future, she locked herself away upstairs and refused to speak to anyone except Hill, the housekeeper. When she chose to converse with Mrs. Hill, it was not done in speaking tones, but rather she screeched at the woman so that the entire household was sure to hear her side of the discourse.

She ate little and kept to her bed, and after a few days had passed, her daughters began to grow genuinely concerned for their mother, though their father kept to his library and rolled his eyes whenever the subject was breached with him. It was only when her daughters received a letter from Eleanor Alcott that their mother brought herself to speak to them once more.

"This must be a compliment to you Jane!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed after perusing the missive, "To spend the season in Town! The guest of a famous Admiral's wife! What a compliment!"

"Mama!" Jane said with a blush, standing at her mother's bedside, "Lizzy has been invited as well."

"Oh hang Lizzy!" Their mother exclaimed, "She has nothing to do with it!"

Attempting to keep her composure, Elizabeth allowed herself only a small roll of the eyes at her mother's commentary. Jane, however, bit her lip and frowned severely. "Oh Mama," she said with gentle pleading in her voice, "Lizzy is much better acquainted with Mrs. Alcott than I am. I am positive that this invitation is a compliment to her, and that I am only invited so that I do not feel slighted."

Mrs. Bennet scoffed, still vexed with her second-eldest for her strong-willed disposition, "Well Lizzy, perhaps Jane is right - although I can see no reason for it. You are not deserving of such attention!"

Lizzy laughed good-naturedly, refusing to allow her mother's anger to upset her. "Indeed Mama," she replied with humor, "I am all astonishment!"

"Mama," Jane hesitantly began, "I should very much like to go to London."

"There can be nothing for it!" Her mother cried, a spark of excitement igniting in her normally tired eyes, "You must go to London, my dear! How else are you to secure Mr. Bingley! You know that no matter how many claims on his time the society of the Ton may make, he will certainly be a frequent caller at his sister's house!"

Jane blushed, her heart racing with possibilities, despite her mind's own protest. Her younger sister grinned and turned toward their mother.

"Well Mrs. Bennet," she said with a sardonic lift of her brow, "perhaps we are not destined for the hedgerows after all."

**o0o0o0o0o**

Eleanor's first few days in London passed quietly. Still small enough to conceal her pregnancy, she made a round of calls to visit with her friends in town, but did little else. The children had arrived only a few hours after her in the company of their governess, and missing her eldest son acutely, she threw herself into the task of entertaining her younger two. Despite her young age, Eleanor was a diligent and indulgent mother who delighted in spending time with her children. The sadness that had overcome her in Hertfordshire due to her argument with the Admiral had circumvented her best-laid plans and made her neglect her children for a short while, but thankfully they were surrounded by a staff of loyal servants who loved them so much that they never felt the lack of attention from their mother. Determined to overcome the melancholia that had threatened to consume her, Mrs. Alcott made it her business to be with her children, now that she would be shut away in Town for her confinement.

One unusually warm morning in the beginning of December, and Eleanor sat with her daughter, their golden curls bowed low together as they giggled over a shared secret. Eleanor delighted in her family, but her only daughter was her special treasure. Charles had misbehaved for Miss O'Reilly, and was shut in his room alone to contemplate his behavior, leaving the two girls to themselves all morning. She had been leisurely enjoying her quiet day, thinking of nothing but the simple pleasures that only being a mother can bring, when an unexpected caller was heard in the door.

With a sigh of annoyance, the lady of the house rose to her feet and brushed imaginary dirt from the folds of her morning dress. Crossing the room, she rang the bell in order to call a servant to take little Anna to the nursery, much to the child's consternation. She stood with annoyance, a foot tapping the ground beneath it, waiting for a servant to enter and fetch her daughter, or the housekeeper to announce the visitor, and yet none arrived. After a full minute of growing irritation, the mistress of the house threw upon the door to her studying, exposing herself to the foyer.

To her surprise, the servants were clustered around a gentleman, almost completely blocking her view, they were talking eagerly, inquiring after the gentleman's health. Then suddenly, his voice floated down the length of the corridor to her ear, and Eleanor's breath caught in her throat.

"All is well at Halston, Mrs. Henderson, I thank you for asking. I did in fact see your sister and she wishes you to know that the family is in good health and spirits."

His back was to her, and taking a tentative step forward, the wife drank in the site of her husband. He leaned heavily on his crutch, not wearing his peg, and his silver streaked hair was tied loosely in a ribbon. Hovering behind her skirts, little Miss Alcott finally caught of glimpse of her father, and with a cry of glee she exclaimed, "Papa!"

Hearing the voice of his only daughter, the Admiral whirled around on his crutch with a surprising alacrity. "My angel!" he exclaimed, leaning forward and extending his arms to lift her into an embrace.

"I miss you Papa!" Anna cried, racing across the hall and burrowing her face in the crook of his neck, "And Johnny too!"

"And I've missed you, my precious girl." The admiral replied gently, balancing on his good leg in a well practiced measure.

Above Anna's head, dark eyes locked with crystalline blue.

The Admiral had returned.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes:**_ Oh wow, oh geeze. I'm sorry! I really should stop putting up ideas of when I'm going to be updating, because I never seem to be able to follow through with them. That's real life for you, right? So pretty much, my apologies on the delay. I'll try to get chapter 11 out to you a little faster, promise._

_Okay, on the subject of the reviews, I want to say THANK YOU! To the four people who reviewed chapter 9. Any or every thought you care to contribute is really, really, really appreciated and helps me to grow as an writer. I not only want your thoughts, but I honestly NEED them, so please KEEP EM COMING! As much as I did genuinely appreciate the reviews I did receive, it was a little disappointing to see that there were only four of them, when I know there are many more people out there reading the story. If you have any kind of reaction to this chapter at all, I'd love to hear it!_

_**EXTRA IMPORTANT NOTE: There is quite a bit of genealogoy in this chapter that may seem a little confusing to some of you. I've tried to explain how the families work in my author's notes at the bottom of the chapter, so if at any point you get confused by the timeline or the families, just scroll down and hopefully that will help you. If you still don't get it, please leave a review saying so, and I'll try to clear everything up as best as I possibly can! **_

Thanks so much, and enjoy!_  
_

* * *

**CHAPTER 10**

Gazing at his wife over his daughter's shoulder, Admiral John Alcott felt his breath hitch in his throat. "By God," he thought, his deep eyes sweeping over her frame, "she is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld." The time they had been parted only improved his wife's looks as she began to swell with his child.

Wordlessly, John handed his daughter to a nearby servant with a nod to bring her to the nursery. When Anna protested, he gave the child a mischievous wink that made her giggle, and she said no more as she was taken upstairs. The servants that followed in his wake, fussing over him, removing his cloak, bringing in his luggage were all ignored as he stared at his bride, eagerly drinking in the sight of her. When he saw that all his bags had been attended to, he glanced at the staff and said with a sharpness that only the commander of a fleet could muster, "Thank you. Leave us!"

With his biting tone, the servants scattered. The master of the house was a good tempered man and a fair employer, but they knew better than to cross one of the Admiral's direct orders. They scurried out of the hall, sending each other curious looks as they returned to their normal duties. For the first time in some weeks, Mr. and Mrs. Alcott were together again, and utterly alone, no servant would be fool enough to make his way into the foyer again so long as his master and mistress occupied it.

The pair glanced at each other warily, suppressing their yearning as best they could. For a lingering moment neither spoke, unsure of how they would be received by the other. Finally, Eleanor released a long held sigh and said, "Admiral, welcome home."

Dark eyes full of emotion, John stepped toward his wife, his crutch thumping heavily on the marble floor. "I am not home." He said tenderly, moving toward her, "No, not yet."

Eleanor could not breathe, could not move, as her husband made his advance. There were many things she wanted to say to him, many angry tears that needed to be shed, but she could not voice her thoughts as he looked at her with his intense gaze. With sudden power, she was brought back to her wedding night; the weak knees, the clammy palms, the feeling of being entirely out of her depth and completely at her husband's mercy, it was all there. Almost before she had time to realize what had occurred he stood in front of her, the distance between them so small that Mrs. Alcott could feel her husband's heat caressing her in gentle waves.

And then his lips were on hers, crashing against her and demanding her to give in to him. Fleetingly, the thought entered Eleanor's mind to resist her husband, to push him from her with angry words, to continue the fight that he had been too much of a coward to finish, but she could not. Her husband had abandoned her, had stolen her child, and yet as his one free arm wrapped around her, crushing her body against his, his lips passionately and reverently making a map on her face, her hair, and her neck, she could not feel anything but an overwhelming sensation of love. It filled her, coursing through her blood in intoxicating measure, making her forget everything except how desperately she had missed him in his absence.

Finally cooling his ardor enough to pull away from his wife for the briefest of moments, the Admiral whispered gently, "Yes, now. Now I am home."

Eleanor could not help the tears that welled in her eyes and threatened to spill, the emotional nature of a woman, especially one with child, and the sorrow of the past weeks unhinged her. Sniffling like a child, she attempted to keep her composure, but the Admiral only kissed each eyelid, and tenderly wiped away each tear with a calloused finger. Cradling her golden head against his chest, he murmured, "From the very moment I left you, I longed for nothing more than to be by your side once more."

"Then whatever possessed you to leave?" she responded, her tone petulant and accusatory, yet tender.

John laughed bitterly, a self-mocking chuckle. "You have always accused me of being a man of a stubborn, prideful nature, Ellie. You need to guess at my reasoning?"

Despite herself, Eleanor's lips grew into a small smile which the Admiral felt against his shoulder as she burrowed her face against him. "How wrong you are so often, Admiral, and how you hate to be so!"

"You have sketched my character most adeptly, madam." He ruefully replied, "I must own it to be true. My better nature willed me to stay and behave as the gentleman I was brought up to be, but baser instincts prevailed."

With his words, Eleanor pulled from her husband's embrace, her temper flaring. "How convenient it must be for you! A husband has all the luxury in the world while a wife has none. You may give into your instincts and take flight with the slightest provocation, yet I must remained shackled to my duty, holding myself erect among the wreckage and weather the storm, no matter how strongly it may wage!"

John blanched, wobbling slightly with the sudden shift of weight. His normally swarthy complexion was pale and haggard with the weight of the weeks that had passed. His mischievous eyes held no hint of humor as he looked at her, only a sobering seriousness. Running a hand through coarse salt and pepper hair in confusion, he looked at his wife and said with all the feeling in the world, "Eleanor, I am sorry."

The tears that had threatened now fell freely, the current of withheld emotion as fierce and powerful as a river breaking through a dam, flooding the valley below. Shaking with the violence of all that she felt, Eleanor attempted to compose herself to little avail. For weeks she had remained strong and in control for her family, her brother and her children, and finally she freed herself of the burden of silent pain. Her husband approached her hesitantly, attempting to console her, but she shook him off, cringing from his touch.

"Where is my son!" She finally gasped, her lovely face red and blotchy, her chest heaving up and down heavily in order to grasp enough air to push the words out. "Where is my little boy, you thief?"

The Admiral winced with her accusation, but his tone was calm and soothing as he addressed his wife. "Our son remains at Halston, with my brother and sister."

"Halston!" Eleanor cried with a barking, humorless laugh, "And where were you while Uncle Andrew filled my son's head with nonsense about inheritance? With one of your mistresses!"

"Enough!" The Admiral thundered, his voice reverberating throughout the foyer, "I will not be spoken to in such a manner!"

"And I," Eleanor cried, matching his volume, "will not be treated in such a fashion as I have endured this past month!"

"Am I not here before you?" John asked, his tone softening, "Have I not owned my faults in this case, and begged your pardon? What more can you ask of me, what else can I do to relay to you the depth of my apology?"

"You have told me your reasoning behind abandoning me, at least in part, and you have told me that you are sorry for doing so. But I have not heard an apology from you, you have not asked for my forgiveness and I will certainly not bestow it on so reluctant a recipient." His wife hissed, her blue eyes flashing in anger. With a an exasperated shake of her head she added, "You are holding back from me, every part of me knows it. What is it Admiral? What are you not telling me, John?"

With her inquiry, a dark solemnity seemed to fill the hall. Eleanor sensed the change in atmosphere almost immediately, and felt the sensation of dread creep up her spine. Staring at her husband, her eyes pouring over him in silent question, it suddenly occurred to her how very tired John looked. At thirty-eight the Admiral was considered to be in his prime, very far from being an old man, but in that moment, every single year seemed to weigh upon him like an oppressing burden. His weather-beaten face looked gaunt, his proud, broad shoulders slumped wearily, and his twinkling eyes had gone from solemn to lifeless through the course of the conversation.

"Please, Mrs. Alcott," he finally said, his tone betraying the depth of exhaustion, "I will confide in you, I swear it. In just a few moments you will know all there is to know of my family, everything I have kept from you these past eight years…but please, I beg of you, allow a man a drink first, to rally himself."

Wordlessly, Eleanor took her husband's hand and lead him to the study, their pace slow as his crutch thundered against the marble floor.

**O0o0o0o0o**

Caroline Bingley was at her wit's end. Although happy to finally be in Town, she found herself dissatisfied and restless. The last Miss Bingley always prided herself on being a careful planner, but of late her best laid plans had not come to fruition. It baffled her that Darcy had yet to make her an offer! Surely he had to see her as more than the sister of his friend, for there was no need to extend the courtesy and invitations to her that he did to Charles. Before coming to Hertfordshire, all proceeded according to plan, and Caroline had eagerly accompanied her brother to that little piece of wilderness knowing that she would have Darcy mostly to herself in the country. At the time it had seemed fairly apparent that that was Darcy's wish as well, for there was no need for him to stay at Netherfield for the duration of the fall just to be the particular companion of _one _friend, was there?

They had been successful in pulling Charles away from Jane Bennet, and that was a relief, at the very least. Caroline watched her younger brother with a surreptitious eye, warily observing him. Initially, she and Louisa had thought that merely pointing out the flaws of the Bennet family would be enough, but that line of persuasion had failed them. They had all witnessed the only Bingley son falling in love before, becoming enamored with the first pretty face and sweet temper he encountered, but never before had he been so thickly entrenched in his feelings. Only Darcy's suggestion that Miss Bennet was not equally involved in the affair prevented Charles from racing back to Netherfield in order to claim her hand. It was clear to her that her brother was desperately unhappy, and Caroline felt an uneasy sensation as she watched her normally animated sibling sit listlessly about the house.

With a sturdy resolution, Caroline locked away any guilt she felt at separating her brother from the object of his affections. While she had many objections to the match due to the Bennet family's financial situation, lack of propriety, and meager connections, the reason she most opposed it was Darcy. Caroline had seen the look of disgust that crossed Darcy's handsome features when he viewed the Bennet family too many times to be mistaken in them. He may have been taken in for a brief time by a pair of fine eyes and a set of impertinent opinions in a Miss country-nothing, but he would never lower himself to connect with such a family, Caroline was positive of it.

For a brief while, it had concerned her that the Bingley wealth came from trade, for Darcy was a member of the most upper tiers of society. Although he had no title, Pemberly was a vast estate with an enormous legacy. His connections and relations made him the nephew of an Earl and of a Lady. Louisa had been insistent however, that with the right encouragement and inducements, the family history of being involved in trade would mean nothing to him. Darcy chose his friends with little regard to social status or wealth, and surely if he found a woman that met all the qualities he desired in a wife her background would be of little concern to him.

Caroline knew for a fact that she was a handsome woman by anyone's standards. The Bingley family had been very fortunate in their looks, and each of the six children was well favored, although some would claim that one sibling outshone the other. She had also been blessed with a quick and resourceful mind, and she had used this mind to hone every skill and talent that she knew Mr. Darcy to find attractive in a woman. She had quite literally sculpted herself into everything Darcy had ever claimed to want in a wife, and yet the closer she came to his idea of perfection, the more she felt him slipping through her fingers.

Louisa was becoming especially demanding when it came to seeing results from her seduction of the gentleman. Mrs. Hurst had many reasons for wanting an alliance between the Bingleys and Darcys, and Caroline sensed she knew only the tip of the iceberg. That Mr. Hurst was as far in debt as Louisa claimed Caroline did not doubt, for she had never met a duller, more foolish man in her life. It was not a far stretch of the mind to imagine him losing his fortune to gaming tables and drink, as far as Caroline was concerned. To her, the mystery of it was why Darcy? There were many young men in Caroline's acquaintance whom she could have just as easily set her cap at, but Louisa was determined that she should be Darcy's wife and no others.

He was rich to be sure, and her pin money alone would presumably be enough to pay off Mr. Hurst's debts, should she become mistress of Pemberly, but there were many wealthy young men who could do the same. And the fact that Louisa refused to confide in her brother and ask for a loan of the needed funds, or to appeal to any of her other sisters for assistance irritated Miss Bingley to no end. If the Hurst family's situation was so decidedly bad, surely Charles would be happy to assist his sister in any way that he could. Any of the other Bingley sisters would do the same, though Caroline knew that word would be difficult to reach the Baroness with the trouble on the continent.

It was exasperating to be indebted to her sister, and yet there was nothing for it. Frequently, Caroline cursed the ties of sisterly affection, wishing she had never been foolish enough to believe in them. Louisa knew the secrets of her sister's heart, and they were such secrets that Caroline was determined to keep hidden forever. When she was sixteen, she had not expected her older sister and dearest friend would ever grow so cold and hard as to use those secrets against her, but that was what had happened.

No, Caroline knew that she would rather go to her grave than have anyone know the awful truth about her youth, and so she bided her time, plotting to secure a husband she did not particularly want, all at her sister's bidding.

It was nothing short of blackmail, but Caroline could not make out the motives.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

It was with some reluctance that Edward Bennet bid his daughters farewell one very fine December morning. For the most part, he was well pleased to see them go, knowing that they were valued and appreciated enough by an intelligent woman of good society to be invited as her guests in London, but selfishly, he did not wish to be parted with them, especially the second eldest. He often teased his family that his three youngest girls were some of the silliest in all of England, but he loved all of his girls dearly. However with the two eldest gone for some time, he knew that the winter would be a trying one on his patience. Longbourne without Jane's gentle influence and Lizzy's sharp, satirical, eye would be devoid of talk of anything but bonnets, lace, and officers until spring. He would simply have to endure.

Mr. Bennet imagined that the carriage had only taken Jane and Lizzy as far as Meryton when the chatter in the house began. Lydia was positively wild at times, and Kitty followed her lead in her ridiculous behavior. He often wrote off his youngest daughters to the high spirits of youth, hoping that with some time, the pair would outgrow their overly frivolous nature. With a frown, Edward closed the door to his library, baring the room from Lydia's loud, infectious, laughter that had tried to filter from the drawing room to his private retreat. With a pang, he thought of Elizabeth's parting entreaty to him, only spoken an hour or so earlier in the morning.

He had asked both Lizzy and Jane to attend him in the library for a private tête-à-tête before the pair headed to Town. With some lingering sorrow, but a great deal of good humor, he had teased his eldest daughters and wished them a safe journey and a pleasant trip. As the pair had quit the room to attend their mother, he had made one last parting joke, "Just remember me, and come home when you are expected. Without you both I fear I will not hear two words of sense spoken together in this house hold for these three months at least!"

Jane had laughed in her gentle way and reassured her father that all would be well, but Lizzy's brow furrowed, and her upper teeth pulled against her lower lip in thought. She lingered in the doorway as Jane left, hearing her mother's summons.

"Papa…" Lizzy said, he voice as unsure as he had ever heard it.

Frowning, Mr. Bennet took in the sight of his vivacious daughter and felt himself growing alarmed. "Lizzy, my love," he asked gently, "what troubles you?"

Lizzy stepped back into the study and closed the door behind her. "Papa, I do not mean to speak out of my place…" she began hesitantly.

Edward was quick to reassure his favorite daughter. "Ah Lizzy, surely you can have nothing so very terrible to say. You know that I have always valued and appreciated your opinion in all matters. Please speak freely, my dear."

Elizabeth paused, trying to find the proper words. "No indeed," she finally said, as somber as her natural good-humor would allow her to be, "nothing so very terrible to say. It is only that I worry for my sisters in my absence."

Edward merely gestured, indicting that she continue. Squaring her shoulders, Elizabeth said, "You know that Lydia is spoiled by my mother, she does nothing to check her wild behavior. Kitty follows wherever Lydia goes. I fear that her behavior calls into question our very respectability as a family!"

Whatever Edward had anticipated his daughter might say, that had certainly not been it. "Oh Lizzy," he said with an small chuckle, "has she frightened away some of your lovers then?"

"Father!" Lizzy exclaimed, her face flushing in embarrassment. Steeling her resolve she continued, "I speak of general, not particular, injuries against us. With Jane and I to London, if you do not check her Father…I worry that her character will become set as the most determined flirt to ever make herself and her family ridiculous!"

"Elizabeth," Mr. Bennet said, growing very serious, "your sister is determined to make a spectacle of herself. There can be nothing for it at this age, she is as headstrong as you are, with less than half your good sense. It is my belief that when all her flirtations come to nothing, for they surely will, with barely any dowry to speak of, Lydia will learn the hard way just what her place is in this world."

Lizzy let out a heavy sigh which seemed to age her before his eyes with the depth of her weariness. "Perhaps you are right, Papa, and I worry too much. I worry about the influence of the militia in Meryton though. They have sent her past her normally wild spirits and transcended her into something beyond it. Ever since the militia came she has had nothing but love, flirtation, and officers in her head!"

"I appreciate your concern, my dear girl. However, I would not have you worry so. Wherever you and Jane go, you will be respected and admired; no one will think less of you for having, dare I say it?…Three, very silly sisters." He replied, giving her hand a reassuring pat.

Looking at his daughter, Edward Bennet could tell that the worry she felt was very real and very urgent, but when she said nothing else, he chose to let the conversation drop. Listening to Lydia's shrill laughter echo down the corridors only fifteen minutes after his second daughter had quit the country, Edward could not help but wonder if she was right. Lydia was a ridiculous, senseless child, that he was positive of. Whether or not she was as empty-headed as she acted, or simply young and full of high spirits he had not yet determined. It was unusual, he mused, for the youngest girl to be out in society when the eldest was not yet married, and perhaps she should have been given so more time to mature before being unleashed on society.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Edward shook off his unease. Lizzy found Lydia's behavior to be vexing, just as he did. But Lydia was fully out in society, and there was little he could do to restrain her personality. Pulling a volume off of his shelf, he promised himself that he would keep a closer watch on his youngest girl to appease his favorite, and then promptly sat down with his book, casting all other thoughts aside save the words on the page.

**O0o0o0o**

Eleanor watched with wide eyes as her husband took back one glass of brandy after another. She had certainly seen the Admiral intoxicated before, she knew he was keen on party spirits and often partook in them, but never in her life had she witnessed a man intentionally make himself drunk. This was no party, here there would be no bawdy humor, no clever remarks, no mischievously twinkling eyes. Before her she saw a man who drank with desperation, who with every mouthful seemed to be longing for both courage and escape simultaneously. Pity, fear, and disgust filled her and so perfectly intertwined with one another that she could no longer differentiate the emotions she felt from one another.

"Please, John…" she said softly, laying a small, soft hand on his arm as he reached for the decanter once more, "Talk to me. I love you."

John closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy breath. Opening his eyes to look at his young wife, he lifted her hand from his arm and pressed his lips against her palm, causing a shiver of pleasure to travel down Eleanor's spine. "I hardly know where to begin." he said quietly, his voice sounding older than Eleanor had ever heard it. "Perhaps it would be better if you asked me what you wish to know."

"Perhaps." Eleanor agreed, lightly wrapping her fingers around his glass and pulling it from his hand to place on the side table next to her seat. Thinking for a moment she asked, "Where you really at Halston with my son?"

"Yes." John said, his tired eyes meeting hers, "I traveled with Johnny to Halston. It was a very unexpected visit, and Emily was not terribly pleased with my sudden arrival in the middle of the night."

"That was certainly in bad taste, John. You could have at least sent an express ahead to warn them that you were on the way." Eleanor said, her tone slightly teasing.

"As usual, you are correct in all things, my dear. I stayed in Halston but a few days, but left Johnny there to spend some time with his Aunt and Uncle. I traveled to Manchester then." He answered, his speech slurring slightly as the alcohol began to course through his blood.

Eleanor felt herself tense, anger flashing through her. "To see your mistress?" She asked, her tone becoming as sharp as the Admiral's saber.

"No." John replied firmly, running his hands through his coarse, salt and pepper hair. "I did see her, yes, but we did not have relations. I told you that I would never touch her again when we married. You told me that you believed me, and yet whenever there is some discord between us, you always think that is where I am and what I am doing! I went to see my son. He was injured and was granted a few months of recovery, and he stays with his mother."

"I am sorry John." Eleanor said, casting her eyes to the floor. "You have always spoken of Edmund with only the highest praise. How does he fare?"

"He gets along admirably, but then, he is hardly a boy anymore. Seventeen years old, and doing quite well for himself. I only wish that I could do more for him then what I have already, but I can not, unless I wish to cause a scandal. I was a fool when I was young." The Admiral replied ruefully.

"It is very strange for me," Eleanor spoke, "you must understand. I am closer in age to my husband's bastard than to my husband. I was still a small child when you were first a father."

"I am not the same man that I was at three and twenty, Eleanor. You must know that as well. I was the penniless second son of a tyrannical knight. I survived only because my Uncle de Bourgh provided for me and saw my advancement through the ranks. I thought I loved Maria, truly, I did, but I could not marry her. To marry her meant disinheritance, and though my father was leaving me with nothing, losing the support of my uncle meant that I would hardly be able to provide for myself, let alone a wife and a child. And so we remained unmarried, and my uncle continued to buy my way through the commissions, and I was able to send her what money I had to spare when I could. The rest of my career you know yourself. How I served under Lord Nelson. How I became famous. How I became an Admiral. How I lost my leg." He paused, and Eleanor squeezed his hand for reassurance.

Taking a deep, rattling breath, the Admiral continued. "At thirty years old, I found myself suddenly transformed from a penniless second son and third rate sailor to one of the most eligible catches in the country. As fond as I was of my uncle, his passing was a great weight lifted off my shoulders. Though once in the position of admiralty I no longer needed his financial support, I knew how much he would disapprove of the match and how badly it would pain him. I felt I owed him so much and I did not want to disappoint him. With him resting in his grave, with my naval career completely over with my having become a cripple and with the prizes I had earned at sea, I could finally do right by Maria and marry her, and be a real father to my seven year old son. I knew then that I no longer loved her," he paused once more, and looking over Eleanor with an even gaze, he added, "after loving you, I now think that what I felt for her was never love to begin with, but that is far from the material point. I wanted to do right by her, so you can only imagine my surprise when I was finally recuperated enough from my amputation to discover that she had married another! It was shocking yes, that someone would take her, an unwed mother. But a sad, widowed, gentle-farmer of little consequence found a kindred spirit in the mother of my son, and tired of waiting for me, she agreed to the match. I could not blame her for doing so. Indeed, I think I only felt relief at the outcome."

Looking at him intently Eleanor asked, "Is it very wrong of me to be glad that she did? I become so spitefully jealous of a woman who has lead such a hard, unforgiving life. It is very unchristian of me to think so ill of her in my envy. I am glad at least, that she became someone's wife and is respected and cherished."

"It is not so very wrong, my love." John answered, "Indeed, if another man had ever been your husband, or had ever kissed you, touched you, or loved you, my jealousy would be uncontainable. I imagine that you feel the same possessiveness toward me that I do toward you. You have often seen me jealous of your close friendship with other men, men I know you have never had any sort of relation with. I can not blame your envy when it's foundation was rooted in my own actions, even if they were actions of the past. Not when my own jealousy has been construed from my own imagination." He smiled tenderly at his wife. "Unfortunately, Maria's husband passed some four years ago. Her time as a bride was very short-lived indeed. She was very lucky to have found anyone though, considering the majority of society would claim that I had ruined her."

Eleanor suddenly found herself feeling very ashamed of her actions. From the age of sixteen she had an adoring husband and as much pin-money and jewels as a girl could ever long for, meanwhile her husband's mistress had spent seven long years waiting for her love. She had waited, hope against hope, praying for the day that she would become Mrs. Alcott, only to give up and become the wife of someone else, out of sheer desperation. Then she had only five short years of being a wife, and she found herself a widow, alone once more. Eleanor wanted to slap herself for her selfishness.

"You did your best to do what was right by her, Admiral." Eleanor said, grasping her husband's hands in her own and refusing to let him sink into melancholy. "No man in such a position could have done better than yourself."

Despondently, the Admiral brought himself to carry on. "I strive every day to do more. I have many regrets Eleanor. I love my son, he is a son any man would be glad to call his own. Every part of me longs to acknowledge him, but I know that I can not without causing a scandal that will do more to hurt than to help all those I care for, and so I remain silent."

"One wonders at your honor, Admiral." Eleanor said with some small mischief, trying to bring her husband to smile. "Are you not the man who society warned me would never make me an offer, as you were the most notorious rake of the century?"

Her attempt had the desired affect, though the grin was not nearly as wide as she would have liked to see it. Indeed, though the corners of her husband's mouth turned upwards, she could tell it took all of his energy to lift his lips heavenward. "My reputation is certainly deserved, as you well know Ellie." He teased back lightly. "Those two years before we wed were a very strange time for me. I had spent the better part of ten years thinking that I would be married to one woman, only to find that she had bound herself to another before I could reach her. I realized that the great love I thought I had with her was merely the stuff of circumstance, more my imagination than anything else. I was still quite a young man, but my career was forever behind me. My mentor had passed. Idle and depressed, I threw myself into society to hide my feelings not only from the world, but from myself as well. I created scandals everywhere I went, yet I was so well-known and so wealthy at this point that I found it mattered not, I could still enter into the very best houses in society. I did as I liked for a long while, and might have continued to do so forever…but then one balmy summer evening I attended an exclusive concert in Bath, and saw the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes upon."

Here Eleanor blushed, knowing that the beautiful woman the Admiral spoke of was herself. They had met through mutual acquaintances at a private concert in Bath, and two months later the Admiral had led his young bride to the alter. "You know not how you saved me, Eleanor." The Admiral continued, taking her hands and pulling her to him. "You darling, wonderful girl. I am utterly besotted with you, and I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you have nothing to fear. No other woman, no matter our past, holds sway over me anymore. You are my wife, my queen, my mistress, all in one. I owe you every happiness, every joy I have felt since the day I met you. It is all your doing."

"No indeed." Eleanor whispered, her crystalline eyes becoming cloudy with tears. "I am not your maker. You have made your own joy, every day you choose to be the best man you know how to be, you are making it. I am only grateful and blessed that you have chosen to share this part of yourself with me."

Though there was still much to be discussed, more secrets to uncover, Eleanor decided that this revelation had been enough for one afternoon. Through tears on both sides, the couple soon found themselves in one another's arms, their kisses as hungry, as passionate, and as tentative as the first time their lips had met. Quickly, the pair became lost in one another, forgetting everything except how quickly their heart beat and how desperately they had missed the other. The door to the study remained shut for a long while, no servant distrustful enough to even enter the corridor that lead to where the master and mistress remained.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** _First of all, PLEASE review. As deeply appreciative of the four reviews for chapter nine as I was, I was still a little bit sad to only see four people were inspired enough to comment. I love your thoughts and I want to hear them, so please, drop me a line!_

Secondly, onto the Genealogoy

**Bingley Family**

Beatrice - 32, married to a Baron, lives in Austria, One child, age seven.

Louisa Hurst - 29, married to Mr. Hurst, a member of the landed gentry. No children

Caroline - 25, single

Charles - 24, single (though hopefully, not for long!)

Eleanor - 24, married to Admiral John Alcott. 3 children.

Julia Robinson - 20, married to John Robinson, a member of the landed gentry. No children.

*Julia and Beatrice are HIGHLY unlikely to make any appearance in this story, but have been mentioned in passing several times, so I thought I would clear that up in case anyone is wondering.

**Alcott Family**

- 53, married (second marriage, first wife died) to Emily Alcott (36), no children

Admiral John Alcott - 40, married to Eleanor Alcott (24), 3 legitimate children. 1 legitimate child expected. 1 illegitimate child, Edmund Blake, age 17.

Uncle Robert de Bourgh - deceased (age 67). Younger brother of Lewis de Bourgh (also deceased), husband to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is sister to Darcy's mother. Married to Clarissa Alcott, the older sister of Andrew and John's father.

I'm not terribly sure what degree of cousin-ship that puts Mr. Darcy and the Admiral, but not too terribly close, I'm assuming. Basically, John and Andrew's Aunt married the younger brother of Mr. Darcy's uncle, uniting those families, however distantly.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Notes: _, sheesh. Guy's, I'm really, really, really sorry. I know what it's like to love a story or even be mildly interested in one and then have to wait half a year for an update. Eh, I can't really make excuses anymore. I'm sorry. I kind of stink. I know.  
_

* * *

**CHAPTER 11**

Charlotte Lucas has always considered herself to be a sensible woman. Even in the first blossom of her youth she had never been prone to fits of fancy that so affected other young women of her class, even her own sister. Yet on an unusually bright and warm morning in the second week of December, she found herself awake with the dawn, a full smile already formed on her lips. It was Sunday, and though she always dressed with care for Church as was expected of everyone, on this particular morning Charlotte observed her toilette with fastidious attention. Today was the first Sunday on which the banns would be read announcing her marriage to Mr. Collins, and her heart fluttered with anticipation. The attention of the entire congregation would be on the her, and Charlotte was determined to look her best. She knew that behind closed doors there would be much gossip in the town as to how fortunate the plain, near-spinster had managed to secure herself a husband, but she would not let such thoughts disturb her. Today she would bask in the glory and triumph only a woman engaged could feel, and she would let nothing disturb her.

As Lucy, her maid, dressed her hair for services, Charlotte observed herself in the glass, musing on all that had passed. "Surely," she thought to herself with a smile, "When we were first acquainted I did not find Mr. Collins," she paused a moment, and mentally corrected herself, "no, William, to be a very fair prospect." How very wrong she had been! Oh, he was a silly man, there could be no question about that. She understood precisely why Eliza had not encouraged him in his suit and ultimately had rejected his offer. Someone as sharp and lively as her friend would never be content as the wife of Mr. Collins, and thankfully, Lizzy was self-aware enough to understand that, even if Mr. Collins had convinced himself that they were well-suited. Charlotte however, was sure that she and William Collins were very well suited indeed. Surely she was just as sharp as her friend, but Charlotte knew that nothing would be more pleasant to her than the quiet life of a country parson's wife.

What no one had taken care to consider, no one that is, but herself, was the question of why Mr. Collins behaved as he did. Everyone acted as they did for a reason, some kind of motivation encouraged their behavior and lead them to their actions. Just as she and many others had long understood that Mrs. Bennet's nervous temperament and desperate match-making came directly from her fear about the entailment upon Longbourne, to Charlotte it was very clear that the parson's overbearing, obsequious, nature was the result of some kind of incident that had occurred in the past, perhaps recently, but more likely in his youth. No child was born apologizing to his mother for inconveniencing her with his birth; something must have happened to turn Mr. Collins into the nervous, rambling man that he had become. Charlotte was positive that there was more to the Reverend than what one could learn from the brief, casual, acquaintance the people of Hertfordshire had known with him. She, at least, would not be ruled by a first impression. She would come to know her betrothed and find the man that lay hidden beneath his barriers of incessant chatter full of flattery, apologies, and talk of persons not himself.

"I know so little of him." The thought appeared unbidden in her mind as Lucy pulled at her chestnut tendrils and twisted them with expertise. "For all his talk, for all the conversations that he has dominated since his entering the county, he has not once spoken of himself."

This thought lead Charlotte to three possible conclusions; the first and the most obvious of these conjectures was that Mr. Collins was a man of insufferable pride who felt the need to brag of the illustrious company he kept in an effort to put himself above his company; the second, that Mr. Collins was man with almost no pride to speak of, at least in terms of self pride. It seemed quite possible that he spoke of Lady Catherine with such frequency because he believed that the company he kept could have little interest in him, a country parson born to a family of no consequence. Charlotte's third theory was that Mr. Collins was actually an intensely shy and private man, and to compensate for this defect he spoke at length on topics on which he could speak easily. Even when conversing on a subject entirely removed from Rosings Park, William had a habit of returning the conversation back to the one object with which he was the most knowledgeable.

Charlotte hardly noticed as Lucy finished with her hair and excused herself to go assist Maria, for she had become utterly lost in her thoughts. Was Mr. Collins truly to be blamed for his silly nature? Surely his journey to Longbourne could not have been comfortable for him. It was not an unknown thing that there had been a strong level of animosity between Mr. Bennet and the late Mr. Collins, William's father. How must he have felt to be staying in the home of a man his father disliked so adamantly? Added to the guilt and unease Charlotte was positive William must have felt in defying his deceased father, there was the knowledge that the Bennet family would not be happy to receive him. He was the man who was the cause of the family's every vexation, the very reason Mrs. Bennet had such anxious nerves. Though the entail was no fault of his own he was the cause of the Bennet family's misery.

They had all judged him, each and every person in the town. Some considered him ridiculous and insufferable, like Lizzy and Mr. Bennet, some forced themselves to like them for their own purposes; her own mother and father were clearly not happy with the man himself, but only grateful that they would finally have their eldest daughter wed; a few others liked him for his own merits, but Charlotte had begun to believe that those in the last category were numbered only by herself and Jane, who could dislike no one. With a sudden start, it occurred to Charlotte that she had never been a total stranger in another place. Though the Bennet's were Mr. Collins' relations, they had never met before this visit. He had come to Meryton quite friendless and alone, and they had all laughed at him, perhaps subtly, for there was no one in all of Hertfordshire who would dare to treat a parson without the utmost respect, but they had laughed all the same.

"Where is the justice in this!" Charlotte wondered, becoming vexed. "I know that I would not be wholly myself if I was amongst nothing but strangers. How can one be relaxed when they are so utterly alone? No," The eldest Miss Lucas decided, becoming steadfast in her resolve, "we none of us know the true William Collins, as he would behave in his natural state. I will bring out the man he is, and when my family visits me in Kent they will be glad for me at last." Making her way from her bedchamber to break her fast with her family before church, Charlotte contemplated what glimpses she had been privileged to witness as to the true nature of William Collins' character.

With some degree of tenderness, her mind instantly turned to William's proposal. That he was desperate for a wife had been obvious. For any man to offer his hand to six ladies in a single day seemed a preposterous notion. It had been mentioned on occasion that Mr. Collin's choosing a bride from his cousin's family was a direct order from his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. For all his talk of the great lady that had painted her portrait as an over-bearing and ridiculous woman, this was one piece of advice that had seemed quite on point in Charlotte's eye. Choosing a bride from that family would be the most economical decision, and the Christian thing to do, considering the entail. William had done his best by the family to make amends and follow his lady's order, but the Bennet sisters would not have him, even Miss Mary. Charlotte knew as he made his offer that it was done so from rejection. Lady Catherine would anticipate him coming home with a fiancé, and he didn't wish to return to Kent and face the humiliation of having been so utterly turned down, failing in in his assignment so miserably.

With a frown, Charlotte thought of how very close to rejecting him she had come. Stalling to give him an answer, she had wondered what people would think to know that she had accepted a man who had been rejected by five other ladies. She had thought of the great disappointment that Lizzy would feel when she told her. But then William had spoken, and it changed everything. He knew what it was to be a man with little to recommend himself. He was an unattractive parson from a family no one had heard of. He was to inherit a small estate in an obscure town. Ladies certainly did not flock to him and vie for his affections. Like Charlotte herself, he had never been an object of admiration to the opposite sex, had never felt true passion and had it returned to him in kind. Her heart had been touched in recognizing a kindred spirit. Perhaps it was easier on a gentleman to be plain than on a lady, for there were many people who considered a woman's only attributes to be her looks and her ability to manage a household, however; the discovery that men, too, suffered from such a plight had opened Charlotte's eyes to many things.

It was, Charlotte pondered, easy to decipher then that Mr. Collins was the sort of man who was eager to please, to the point of fearing to disappoint. She had seen much of this servile nature in his behavior to the people of Hertfordshire, herself included. That he had been so devoted to the idea of returning from the county with a future bride also spoke to how frightened failure made him. There were certainly worse characteristics that the companion of her future life could possess. She imagined that this quality, so inherent in his every behavior and action, could only lead to a generous and accommodating husband. His gratitude at her acceptance had been profound, and the eldest Miss Lucas instinctively felt that her fiancé would feel the need to thank her for it for a very long time.

With a slight blush, her thoughts turned to the morning he had called, arriving long before any others in the household were awake. Her long brown hair was unbound, spilling across her shoulders and down her back in unkempt waves. Mr. Collins…William, had looked at her with such an expression that Charlotte's stomach clenched in a painful, nervous, sort of pleasure even at the memory of it. Charlotte entered the dining room, where most of her family ate, chatting amiably amongst themselves. She filled her plate and bid her family good-morning, but did not pay much heed to the conversation at hand, as heat raced through her veins. She was attentive enough to speak when spoken to, but otherwise did not enter into the fray. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the ruddy-faced parson who was slowly worming his way into her heart.

She drank her tea and relished her inner thoughts, thinking of the moments with William that were between no one but the two of them. The early morning light in the dining room brought her back to that morning with even more vivid recollection, and she allowed her subconscious to be swept up in the memory. How he had looked at her in that moment! Her insides warmed just thinking of it. No one would suspect that the deferential reverend would be a man of passion, but Charlotte was anticipating some felicity in the marriage bed, if his kiss was any indication.

The walk to the church was one of the longest of her life, she could not wait for the first of the banns to be read. The more she thought of her intended, the more eager she became to be his bride. These weeks could not pass swiftly enough.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Baroness Olivia Watford was not a woman to be trifled with. In the years that Eleanor had known her, from their early days in finishing school, their brief time together as debutants in Bath, and now as young, fashionable, married ladies of London society, it was something she had seen evidence of a thousand times over. Glancing at her shrewd friend over the rim of the teacup she held, Eleanor immediately resolved to be as direct as possible. Disguise of any sort was the Baroness' greatest abhorrence, and Mrs. Alcott did not credit herself with acting skills she did not possess.

From the other side of the parlor, Baroness Watford observed her fair-haired friend behind a stoic veneer. She was well known in Town for her unflappable disposition, and the calm milieu she always presented when playing hostess would not be disrupted by some idle curiosity, despite the fourteen year old girl in her who was clamoring to hear Eleanor's gossip. Patting at imaginary crumbs on the corner of her mouth with a silk napkin, she waited patiently to hear what her friend would say, the slight upturning of her lips covered by the length of a pale, slender hand.

"Well Liviy," Eleanor began, settling her cup in it's saucer, "I do have one piece of news I have yet to share."

The Baroness' black brow lifted slightly in question, but she said nothing, allowing for Eleanor to continue directly by saying, "You know that in a fortnight I will enter my confinement in earnest, and will no longer be permitted to make social calls such as this one. That is why I was so insistent that we meet this week, for I have a great favor to ask of you."

"A favor, Elle?" She questioned teasingly, her voice lilting and pleasant in the way that only a truly gifted singer's can be. "Whatever would you ask of me? I have always known you to be an incredibly resourceful woman in your own right."

Eleanor smiled coyly, enjoying the lady's quick wit. "Is it not said, Baroness, that one's greatest and most powerful resource is one's allies? I am certainly in need of one."

The lady laughed then, honey brown eyes meeting Eleanor's crystalline blue in equal shares of mirth. "Are we to war, Mrs. Alcott?" She asked, her tone as even as if she had inquired about the weather.

Eleanor's smile turned somewhat grim. "Ah but we are, Liv, if you will help me! The machinations of my sisters' grows tiresome, and I plan to thwart all their best-laid plans."

The hostess sat straighter in her seat, her head cocking slightly as if to hear her guest more clearly. "You have me quite thoroughly intrigued, I assure you!" She exclaimed, reaching across the length of the table to pour more tea. "What have those two harridans concocted now?"

Eleanor snorted with amusement at the apt description of her sisters, yet admonished her friend all the same. "How you have not insulted all good society from your company truly amazes me, Olivia. It does not do well for a Baroness to speak thus. It is certainly not becoming in a lady."

"A lady of intellect knows in whose company she can speak freely; a bold lady acts upon her logic, and does so when the opportunity presents itself." Olivia smiled playfully. "Tell me what has occurred, and what my part in this will be. If it means vexing Caroline, I will be delighted to be of service!"

Eleanor swirled the sugar in her cup with expertise, thoughtfully choosing where to begin. "You know that my sister has long set her cap at my husband's cousin Darcy."

Baroness Watford rolled her eyes and commented with some derision. "Who does not know of it? She has all the subtly of a painted lady in that regard."

"My sister Hurst promotes the match also. My brother's gaming debts only ever increase, despite the fact they have leased both his town home and the estate. From what I understand of the situation, debtor's prison is becoming a very real possibility for the gentleman, as he is in such bad straights. Louisa will not ask Charles to aid her, as she already relies on his hospitality to put a roof over her head. From what I can discern, she lives off of Caroline's allowance and my brother's protection. I believe she pushes Caroline to greater acts of desperation in hopes that with Caroline's marriage to Darcy, she will have access to Caroline's pin-money, which undoubtedly would be substantial."

"But what of yourself, and your other sisters?" Olivia interjected, baffled by the idea of Louisa as the driving force behind Caroline's pursuit of Mr. Darcy.

"The Admiral is a very generous man," Eleanor answered, her voice colored with confusion at her own words, "he would not be pleased to help my sister and her husband, as he has no particular fondness for either party, but I know that to ease my own worry, he would do so. I can not speak for my sisters and what part they have to play with any true authority. I know that it is very difficult to stay in touch with Beatrice, with all the troubles on the continent, and letters are often lost or misdirected. It would be a very difficult thing for her to send funds to my sister, and that is why I do not believe she has applied to her for them. Julia, my youngest sister and so newly married simply does not have the amount sufficient to do any true aid to the Hursts. She and her husband are comfortably settled, but from what I know of his estate, there can be little room to be charitable. It seems then that it would fall on myself if she will not turn to our brother for aid, but Louisa has not approached me. I will not mortify her pride and broach the subject with her, but if she were to simply ask me for some assistance or to confide her troubles to me, I would willingly and gladly help her."

Thoughtfully sipping her tea, Olivia replied, saying, "I fear that I am somewhat uncertain of what it is exactly that you are aiming to do, Elle. There are many ways that you could stop Caroline's 'seduction' of Darcy." With a slight smirk, she added, "Though I sense that there is no need to, as the gentleman in question is highly unlikely to succumb to your sister's feminine wiles."

Eleanor frowned, her upper teeth dragging across her lower lip in that universal sign of consternation and contemplation. "I am afraid that the story grows even more complex, Liv." She continued, "You know very well that my brother Charles has leased an estate in Hertfordshire for some months, and that before I returned to Town, I spent the better part of two months as a guest there. During his time in the country, my brother met a young lady and has since fallen very much in love. She is gentleman's daughter, a darling girl, well-bred and with the kindest disposition you can possibly imagine. Unfortunately, the estate is entailed away from the female line, there is only a paltry sum in the way of a dowry. The family also has some connection to trade on the mother's side. None of this means anything to my brother, who is wealthy enough that he has no need of a woman's dowry, and feels no shame in his own connections to trade, but they mean a great deal to my sisters."

"But of course!" The Baroness cried in excitement, beginning to piece the puzzle together, "Everything has started to fall into place. Your sister Hurst must be most seriously displeased with your brother's preference, for if Caroline fails with Darcy completely, she will eventually have to turn to him for aid in Caroline's stead."

"While my brother is wealthy, he is certainly not wealthy enough to pay off Hurst's debts unassisted. If he forgoes all the liquid assets that a substantial dowry will provide, she could very well wind up with nowhere to turn to for assistance in this matter." Eleanor replied in a rush, the words spilling from her mouth.

"I imagine that in their eyes, Charles marrying a girl with connections to trade also materially lowers Caroline's chances of securing Darcy." Olivia added with relish, feeling quite satisfied to have worked out the mystery.

"Or of marrying well in general, I wager." Eleanor concluded, taking a tart from the tea-tray and biting into it with an unladylike gusto.

"Your sisters' logic is perplexing to say the least." Olivia mused. "Why should any gentleman, Darcy included, take offense to Caroline's brother's wife having a relative in trade, but be able to overlook her own parentage with ease? I can not comprehend it."

"Caroline has always had her own perspective of the world," Eleanor said, choosing her words carefully. "She has little regard to how others may perceive things, especially when their perception is in direct opposition to her own. The fallacies of her logic do not overly surprise me, but the new lows she has sunk to have begun to astonish me!"

"But what has occurred?" Olivia asked sharply, seeing her friend grow angry.

"Charles originally came to town on business. He had every intention on returning to Hertfordshire with all due haste, and making his young lady an offer. He called on me the day before last, as miserably down-trodden and despondent as I have ever seen my twin. You know Charles' cheerful disposition, everyone does. I have never seen my brother suffer such melancholia. He tells me he plans to remain in London indefinitely. That he shall not return to Hertfordshire. When I asked him why, he told me he was convinced that Miss Bennet did not care for him!" Eleanor cried, her eyes brightening in righteous fury. "This is my sisters' doing! They have convinced him that the woman he loves does not care for him, they have persuaded him to abandon that poor girl who adores him, and I will not stand for it! They would have two people suffer for their own selfish needs, but I will, with your help, stop them."

"Finally, we have arrived at the crux of the matter!" The Baroness said with satisfaction. "I am quite at your disposal, my dear. Whatever is in my power to do to aid you on this noble mission of yours, I will see it done."

The Admiral's wife chuckled lightly at the description of her 'quest'. "I suppose there is something of nobility in trying to bring together two people who love one another," She said lightly, "though I would hardly describe it thus. I am simply attempting to do what any good sister should. What would have become of this matter if the Admiral and I had remained in Bath? Without another sister present with Charles' best interest at heart, I imagine that Louisa and Caroline would have been quite successful in destroying Charles' happiness. I am more glad than ever that we came to stay at Netherfield."

"And how do you plan to thwart the 'superior sisters' plots and schemes?" Baroness Watford asked teasingly, amber eyes sparkling with amusement. "Beside talking to Charles and making him see the matter from your own vantage point, it seems there is little that can be done."

"I am already beyond those plans, my friend." Eleanor said with winsome laugh. "Why I expect the lady as my guest this very afternoon, her sister as well. During my time in that county I became very well acquainted with the young ladies, and I have invited them to spend my confinement with me. Considering my condition, the favor I ask you is a great one, but one that I sincerely hope you shall delight in."

"Oh, Elle." The hostess sighed with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, "You would have me take these sisters under my wing and introduce them to society, would you not? As if my social card was not already demanding enough as it were."

Eleanor simply smiled, blue eyes meeting brown in mischief.

"Very well!" The Baroness exclaimed, "Though I see little in how this will vex Caroline, which you did promise me!"

Eleanor's smile only broadened, and when she did not speak, Olivia pressed her, growing frustrated. "There is something you are not telling me, Elle, and I must know it if I am to partake in these schemes of yours."

Mrs. Alcott smiled, her eyes twinkling in a manner reminiscent to her husband's. "I will say only this, for I have no definitive proof on the subject, but it is my strongest belief that while my brother may be ardently in love with the eldest Miss Bennet, his friend, and my cousin, may hold even a greater regard for her sister, Miss Elizabeth."

And with those words, for the first time in her six-and-twenty years, Baroness Olivia Watford was rendered completely speechless.

**o0o0o0o0o**

Since arriving in London, Fitzwilliam Darcy had had many restless nights, but none so awful as the one he had just experienced. Peering at himself in the glass, he searched for a fleeting solution to his discontent within the depths of his own image. He looked at himself with the frank consideration that a man can only experience when utterly alone with his conscious, and found himself wanting. Despite the chill of the morning, sweat danced across his brow, which was furrowed with disquiet and vexation. His countenance was pale, haggard, and decidedly aging. The circles under his eyes were growing more an more predominant with the passage of several sleepless nights following one another in quick succession.

He filled his days with busy nothings, the typical route of young gentlemen in his class. He drug a despondent Bingley from one club to another, making the rounds of society as they were both obligated. He fenced with masters, he gamed with gentlemen, and by the time he reached Darcy House for an evening's respite, the hour was late and he was bone-tired. Yet despite his exhaustion, when the master of Pemberly laid his head down to rest, sleep did not come to him for many hours. It was often not until first-light when Fitzwilliam's eyes finally fluttered close of their own accord, and that was a time at which he was more accustomed to waking.

The rest he did manage to acquire was certainly not the blessed slumber of a man at peace with himself. His dreams were wild, fragmented, frenzied, often waking him in fits of panic only a few hours after sleep had managed to find him. These disjointed visions were seemingly random and yet they all filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread that carried out into his waking hours. Most commonly he saw Georgiana's tear-streaked face or his mother pale and still on her deathbed, her lifeless eyes somehow turning from him in shame, even after she had left her mortal shell behind. Yet of late, his dreams had become even more sinister in nature.

It started the same way each night.

His eyes would open as if he was waking up in his bed in Darcy House, and he felt the most peculiar sensation that he was truly awake, yet knew somehow that what he was experiencing was not reality. He was in the library of Pemberly, yet it did not look the way he had left it in September, when he had traveled with Bingley to Netherfield. The room was in horrible disrepair, as if no one had lived in the place for decades. It was pitch black, so black in fact that it was unnatural. He could only see a few feet in front of him before the rest was cast into darkness.

He whispered to himself that this was not real, that it could not be real, that he was laying in his bed in London, just two weeks before Christmas, but his rationality could not dispel the unease that threatened to overtake him. Suddenly, he heard his father's voice call to him desperately, and next thing he knew he stood in Pemberly's main foyer, yet he did not travel there himself. The grand doors swung open of their own accord and light poured in, light so vivid and visceral that he had to fully turn from it to shield his eyes from blindness.

Then he heard Her, the woman he had been racing to escape so long, that had so unknowingly ensnared him that he was utterly at a loss as to what to do; her laugh rang out in all it's glory, as melodious and heart-wrenching as the first time he had ever heard it uttered. He turned toward the light, looking out behind splayed fingers, for the color was truly more than what his eyes could bear. He blinked once, then twice, trying to adjust his eyes to the golden brilliance of the outdoors. When the picture finally came into view he found himself astonished, for instead of the well known courtyard of his grand estate, the doors opened to a corner of Netherfield park, a corner that had haunted him for weeks.

The She stood, exactly as he remembered her, the ethereal glow of morning sunlight caressing her skin. Her dark tousled curls escaped a loosely tied bonnet and swept about her face and played on her neck in the faintest breeze, teasing, dancing. The happy sun outlined her silhouette in her becoming morning dress, a tan muslin, cheaply made and faded with many washings. The hem was at least six inches deep in mud, and he noticed now which he had never noticed before, how though her volume was shut in her hand, she held it so that her index finger marked her page.

Elizabeth stared at him with a peculiar expression, her hazel eyes sparkling with the hints of gold he had first noticed those many weeks previously. He was lost to her, he wanted to cross the foyer of his ancestral home, reach back in time and make her his. She was unlike any other he had ever known and instinctively, he knew that no other would ever be what she was to him. He outstretched a hand toward her, but found that he could reach out all the way, his moves were lethargic and heavy, as if he had very limited control over his own actions.

She laughed then, not unkindly, and he heard her voice speak, though her lips did not move. "Mr. Darcy is all politeness." The disembodied voice spoke, lilting and teasing.

The words registered as ones he had heard before, though he could not place their origin. He attempted to speak, but no sound came out. In fact, his throat was tight and his mouth was dry, as if he had not had a sip of water in many days. It was a curious sensation, the rational part of his mind admitted, and yet he was unafraid when in her presence.

He took a step forward, then two, then four until he was on the very precipice of the doorway. But just then, as he was about to cross the threshold, to return to Hertfordshire and her side, his father's voice cried out his name in alarm, the sound halting his very step. It was a bellow unlike he had ever heard before, and the very walls of Pemberly shook with the reverb. His head whipped backward, toward the depth of Pemberly, yet when he looked away from the light, the oppressing darkness was all that he could see.

He turned back to look at Elizabeth, ignoring the way the very foundation was shaking, but he had lost her interest. She lay on the muddy Earth, her attention back to her book, her encounter with Fitzwilliam entirely forgotten. He tried to step toward her, to call out, but his father's voice rang out again, stopping him in his tracks.

The doors slammed shut, and would not open no matter how hard he tried. All of Pemberly was shaking violently now, and the roar of his father's call had become an over-powering and inhumane din.

The cacophony rattled the house and dust and debris began to fall as Fitzwilliam tugged and pulled against the door, shouting with despair. The large French windows on either side of the entranceway showed Elizabeth quietly reading, immersed in her volume, a delicate smile on her lips and she involved herself in literature. The walls of Pemberly began to crumble around him, stone after stone falling, the marble floor buckling and cracking beneath him, yet outside she read on, undisturbed.

It occurred to Fitzwilliam that he was being buried alive, that he would die in Pemberly, the place he loved above all others, that Pemberly had betrayed him. His father had betrayed him. Yet each night, as the last of the rubble descended upon him, the din and the noise over, the dust settling, he felt no pain and no loss on the score.

No, the pain he felt; the pain that woke him every night, the pain that made him cry out in his sleep, was the pain he felt as he glimpsed out of his the only small crack in his prison and saw her turning a page, her eyes never straying from her book.

Elizabeth was utterly blind to his desperation.

She did not see him.

She did not think of him.

She did not care.

* * *

_It's been positively thrilling to see that there is still an interest in this story out in the world, so please, keep the comments coming. I really do love hearing from you all and seeing your insights into the characters and the story. Thank you all so much for reading!_


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